Storm warning, p.18
Storm Warning, page 18
“Kenzie. Don’t.”
“This is a person’s life we’re talking about.”
“Mom’s right—we’re talking about other lives too,” I say. “Our lives. Hazel’s life. The lives of everyone here.”
“You two always taught me to do the right thing. Remember when I borrowed a dollar from the Girl Scout cookie money, and you made me write a whole note and give the money back? Isn’t that what you taught me? To always do the right thing?”
“You stole that dollar, honey,” Jordan says. “And, yes, we always want you to do the right thing. But the lines can be blurry and complicated sometimes.”
Mackenzie looks at Jordan and then swings her head to me. She wants to say more—and I could guess what it would be—but she wisely chooses to fold her hand.
“Yeah, I can see how the lines get blurry,” she says. “I can see that very well.”
There’s movement to my right, at the end of the hall near the living room. Someone coming my way on all fours.
Stanley. “Jake, I couldn’t help but overhear some of your discussion. About Tyler and all that.”
“Yeah?”
“Look, I know I was the one who pushed you into tying him up. You weren’t really on board.”
“We made the decision together, Stanley. Both of us.”
“I don’t mind checking on him if you want. That way you can stay with your family—”
“That’s nice of you, but—”
“Really, Jake. I don’t mind.”
Mackenzie nudges me in the side. I get the hint.
“Okay, Stanley. But maybe when the storm’s eased a little.”
“I don’t think I should wait. I’ll go now—pop my head in, see if he’s okay, come right back.”
“Just be careful,” I say.
Everyone around me echoes the sentiment. They wish Stanley well, thanking him for checking on Tyler.
Stanley crawls back through the tangle of legs until he’s out of sight.
“He’ll be okay,” I say to Jordan. “Right?”
She nods, squeezes my arm again. “Of course.”
But I can’t help thinking this is a mistake—and that I should be going in his place.
Fifty-One
2:29 a.m.
I listen for the sound of Stanley going out the front door.
But I never hear it.
It should be easy to hear, given the wind and rain battering the outside of the building.
I flash back to the dispute between Lloyd and Stanley. Their fight over the gun. Stanley told me before we ever came to Lloyd’s apartment that the two men don’t like each other.
Are they arguing again right now?
Just then the door swooshes open, and slams shut with a loud thump.
No one has been saying much, and when I stand up to investigate, everyone looks at me with the same question in their eyes. Where are you going?
“I’m just going to check on Lloyd and Catalina. I’ll be right back.” I carefully step past the raised knees and folded bodies of my fellow tenants.
The flashlight beam guides me to the living room, where I half expect to see Lloyd and Stanley locked in mortal combat. Instead, I find the same peaceful tableau I left earlier.
Lloyd sits at Catalina’s bedside, her hand clutched in his, the guttering candle casting soft orange light over both of their faces.
Lloyd turns his head toward me. “What is it, Jake?”
I glance around the room, moving my beam across the space. Water still drips from the ceiling. Did I expect to find Stanley crouched in some corner of the room, like a small child playing hide-and-seek?
“Where’s Stanley?”
“Gone. I thought you knew he was leaving.”
“I did. But it seemed to take him a while to get out of here.”
“And you were worried he and I were having some kind of disagreement?”
“Exactly.”
Lloyd gently lowers Catalina’s hand to the bed. “The exact opposite happened.” He stands up, reaches behind him, and pulls out the Glock. “Stanley went out of his way to give this back to me. He even apologized for being difficult earlier.”
“He did?” I look to Catalina, figuring she’s the most honest arbiter of any of us.
She nods, but there’s strain on her face. I worry she’s suffering.
“Wow, okay. Did he say anything else?”
Lloyd turns to Catalina before looking back at me. “He said he knew he could be a pain in the ass. I agreed he could be, but admitted that it takes one to know one.”
A small smile appears on Catalina’s face.
“He said I should hold on to the gun so I can protect the two of us and everyone else. I offered to go with him, but he was adamant that I stay.”
Catalina says something much too low and weak for me to hear.
“What was that?”
“…good…”
“Catalina felt strongly that I should not go.”
“Jordan feels the same. So, that’s it?”
“He told me if he didn’t come back, I should help you take care of everybody. He told me not to worry about him. It all seemed a little melodramatic to me. He’s just going down the way to Alaina’s place. It’s not far….”
“And that’s it?”
“That’s pretty much it.”
Catalina rings her bell, but she doesn’t do it quite as robustly as earlier.
“Oh, he did sit with Catalina for a bit. I can’t say I blame him. It’s all I want to do.” Lloyd walks past me to the door and puts the chain back in place. “He also said you still have the passkey.”
I pat my pocket, feel the metal shape there. “I do.”
“Jake?”
The voice comes from the hallway. When I turn, Nina and Kiara are beckoning me back to the hall. Once I settle in next to Mackenzie and Jordan, Nina asks me about Stanley.
I tell them Stanley gave the gun back to Lloyd, apologized even. I expect this news to be treated with relief.
But Nina’s mouth opens. She turns to Kiara and smacks her on the shoulder. “See, I told you.”
“Don’t you see what’s going on here, Jacob?” Hazel inserts herself into the conversation. “I’ve been trying to tell you. It’s Stanley. He’s up to something. I told you I saw him sneaking around the island with Tyler.”
“It’s not a crime for Stanley to talk to Tyler, Hazel. Or anyone else.”
Ethan leans forward. “Jake, it’s not just that. What do we really know about Stanley?”
“Well…not much, I guess. But I don’t know a lot about any of you. Not really.”
“But what do you know?” Ethan asks.
“I learned today he served in Vietnam.”
Ethan looks surprised. “Are you for real? Vietnam? This only proves my point.”
“What point?”
“Do you remember how Stanley ended up here?” Ethan’s voice sounds more assured than I’ve ever heard it.
I’m reluctant to add any fuel to the fire of suspicion that is smoldering around Stanley. “I know he moved in after they’d decided to sell. What I understood from Dallas is that Stanley knew the Bennets, and that’s why they let him rent an apartment when no one else was allowed to move in.”
“Isn’t that odd?”
I can clearly see the direction he’s trying to drive the conversation, but I’m hesitant to give Ethan the satisfaction. “See what? Stanley moved in late, and he knows the owners in some capacity.”
“What are they trying to say, Dad?”
Nina answers her before I can. “Stanley knows the owners. He shows up here a few months ago, moves in even though they’re trying to get rid of the rest of us. Hell, they probably hope we’ll get blown away in the storm. And now Stanley’s with Tyler.”
“Are you serious?” I ask. “Are you going to blame Stanley for the JFK assassination next? Ethan, you were there. Stanley pulled a gun on Tyler. He’s the one who insisted we keep him away from everyone else. He’s the one who wanted to tie Tyler up. He wanted to stuff a gag in Tyler’s mouth, and I talked him out of it.”
They all exchange looks—Nina and Kiara, Hazel and Ethan. Only Sawyer doesn’t seem completely enthralled.
It’s clear to me the four of them have been discussing this. And spinning their own web of conspiracy.
“What reason would Stanley have for causing all this trouble?” I ask.
Again a series of looks get exchanged.
“I don’t like this kind of talk,” Sawyer says. “I told them to tone it down.”
“I agree,” Jordan says. “If you’re going to make serious allegations, you need to have proof. Real, solid proof.”
“Okay, let’s look at the facts,” Ethan says. “Who’s been hurt today?”
“Dallas,” Sawyer says. “He’s not hurt. He’s dead.”
“And we all know how Dallas felt about the Bennets. He went to bat for us, always pushing them to take better care of the building, threatening to go to the housing authority. The Bennets don’t want anyone making trouble with this sale. Any bad attention could scare off buyers.”
“So you’re saying Stanley and Tyler killed Dallas to shut him up?”
“Dad, you kind of said the same thing when Stanley first came to the door.”
I can’t push back too hard. What Ethan and the rest of them are proposing makes a certain amount of sense. The question looming over everything all day has been why on earth anyone would want to kill Dallas. I’d been assuming it was a random crime—a looter, a squatter—which would explain the bedroom being ransacked, but what if it wasn’t?
“You could make a case for the owners wanting to knock off Dallas.”
My fellow tenants all start to talk at the same time. I hold my hand up, cutting them off.
“I’m not saying I’m buying that theory. I’m just saying—it’s a theory with some logic behind it. But it still leaves one big question unanswered. If the killer was after Dallas, why did someone go into Ethan’s apartment and rough him up? Why did they go through his things but not take anything? What were they looking for?”
Now it’s just Ethan and Hazel who exchange a look. Hazel nods at Ethan like she’s the queen and he’s her footman.
Ethan turns to the rest of us, clearing his throat. “We think this is about what Hazel and I have been working on.”
“What you’ve been working on?” I ask, not bothering to hide the skepticism in my voice. “You two?”
“The truth is, it’s pretty big. And it could ruin everything for the Bennets. The sale of the island and any property on it.”
Fifty-Two
Neither Ethan nor Hazel offers an explanation right away. It’s almost like they want us to ask.
A low, dull thumping sound reaches us from afar.
We don’t have time for games. “Okay, I’ll bite. What exactly have you and Hazel been working on that would make someone kill Dallas?”
“Do you hear that?” Hazel asks. “That noise?”
We all nod. “Of course.”
Hazel looks up at the ceiling, her eyes roaming over every inch of the stucco above us. “He’s up there. He’s doing this to us.”
“Who’s up where?” Nina asks. “I thought the roof was gone.”
Frustration and empathy battle it out inside me. I know empathy has to win, but frustration is putting up a good fight. I get it. I do. Hazel has no control over her aging mind. It’s the dementia making her believe her so-called stalker is standing on top of the building, pulling the hurricane to us like Superman. The stress of this situation is enough to make anyone question reality. Hazel’s mental abilities are too diminished for her to see that clearly. But our problems are so vast right now, I really don’t have the patience to deal with her.
“He is,” Hazel says. “The man responsible for everything going on.”
“Stanley?” Sawyer asks. “Stanley went up to the roof?”
“Not Stanley.”
My head shakes, a demonstration of the frustration I can’t hide. “She’s talking about her stalker. Or the guy she thinks is stalking her.”
“Dad? Be chill, okay?”
“Apparently, he also controls the hurricane.”
Hazel drops her eyes from the ceiling and fixes them directly on me. They glisten in the faint light. She’s upset. My doubt has upset her.
“Well,” she says, “I’m used to this from Dallas. But not you, Jacob.”
Mackenzie nudges me in the side.
“Why don’t you just tell us what you’ve been working on?” I ask.
Hazel looks away. Haughty, hurt. Her chin lifted in the air. She’s not going to answer me, not even going to deign to look at me.
I let out an involuntary groan. “Okay, Ethan, why don’t you tell us what’s going on?”
Ethan glances at Hazel, who still has her chin in the air. None of us can see her face straight on now. Ethan says her name, but she ignores him, so he turns back to us and shrugs.
“I don’t know as much as she does, but I can try.” He looks at her again, but she isn’t budging. “You all know Hazel is a historian. She used to teach at the community college. She knows everything about the island.” He shrugs again. “I guess she’s found something that will prevent the sale of the property. She says it will get the Bennets to back off and leave us alone.”
“How do you fit into all this?” Sawyer asks.
Ethan lets out a laugh. “Have you seen Hazel’s apartment? She has papers. Lots and lots of papers.”
“There’s nothing wrong with paper,” Hazel says, still not looking at us. “Better than staring mindlessly at your phone or the television all day.”
“Anyway,” Ethan says, “I was just helping Hazel scan some of her papers. I didn’t understand them. They’re old documents—maps and things. But I tried to help.”
Hazel decides to rejoin the conversation. She whips her head back around, taking us all in before she speaks. “Ethan is correct. I did find out something important. Very important. You should have listened to me. But once people get to a certain age in this culture, we get shunted aside. Isn’t that the truth?”
It’s obvious no one really knows what to say. We all glance at one another and then away. Our bodies stir, feet shuffling against the carpet. Arms gently shifting position.
This is about me, so I try to make things right. “I’m sorry if I didn’t take you seriously, Hazel. We’re all listening now. Will you tell us what you’ve discovered? Maybe we can help too.”
Hazel takes us all in again. She scans each and every one of us, as if she’s trying to memorize something critical about our faces.
Or else she’s searching for something.
When she’s finished looking, she shakes her head. “It’s too dangerous to talk about it here. Maybe when we get out of here—if we get out of here—I’ll share.”
I refrain from commenting. I can’t take anything Hazel says too seriously. Or expect too much.
It occurs to me that Stanley has been gone for a while now. He was supposed to go straight to Alaina’s apartment, stick his head in the door, and check on Tyler.
Has something gone wrong?
Did Tyler work his way loose? Did he hurt Stanley?
Or has Stanley finally taken matters into his own hands with Tyler?
“But,” Ethan says, drawing me back to the moment, “if Hazel did find information preventing the sale of the building, it would explain a lot. It would explain why someone—probably Tyler—came into my apartment and attacked me before he started rifling through the things on my desk.”
“And…” Mackenzie’s voice isn’t loud, but we hear it and turn her way. Her face flushes under the attention, but she doesn’t avert her gaze from the group. “You may not have heard it, but when that guy was pounding on the door, he said—I swear this is true—he said Hazel’s name. He said it like he knew you were in here and he needed to talk to you.”
Hazel looks at me and nods toward Mackenzie. She doesn’t say a word, but the look speaks volumes. If you don’t believe me, do you at least believe your own daughter?
“Okay,” I say. “Okay. It’s clear none of us know what’s going on. And we need to get help here so the authorities can figure it all out. Whenever that will be. But in the meantime—”
“I know exactly what you’re thinking, Jake,” Jordan says. “What the heck happened to Stanley?”
Fifty-Three
“That’s what I want to know,” I say.
“Maybe he got hurt,” Mackenzie says. “He shouldn’t have gone out in the storm. He’s pretty old, isn’t he?”
“Old?” Hazel scoffs. “Stanley’s in his seventies. He’s not old. Why, he’s a spring chicken.”
“Maybe it was a bad idea to send him out there alone,” I say. “But it’s been pretty safe to stick to that walkway.”
“But that wind, Jake,” Sawyer says. “It’s getting worse.”
“I know….” I start to get up, pushing to my feet in the tight space.
“Jake, wait—” It’s Jordan. She doesn’t want me to leave.
“Doesn’t this prove Stanley could be up to something?” Ethan asks. “Maybe he’s run off.”
I’m on my feet now. “Can we keep the speculating to a minimum?”
“Jake, what are you doing?” Jordan asks.
“I’m just going to stick my head out the door and see what happened to Stanley.”
“There’s a killer out there, Jacob.” Hazel deigns to speak to me again. “It’s dangerous.”
“Dad, why don’t you let me come with you?”
“No way. You need to stay here with everyone else. I’ll just take a quick look. If I don’t see anything, I’ll come right back. But Stanley and I are responsible for Tyler, so I need to check on him.”
