Chapter Eighteen

She was doing a final walk-through of the main floor that evening, to check for any forgotten equipment, when an unexpected guest showed up. Ginger opened the door and did a double take, sure that she must have been experiencing a hallucination. Too much stress, she thought, blinking her eyes to clear the vision before her. When she dared to open them again, he was still there, no living dream but a flesh-and-blood man.

"Aiden…"

"Surprised to see me, doll?" He took advantage of her stunned silence, his arms closing around her waist, hauling her close to him and literally sweeping her off of her feet and around in an exuberant circle, his mouth coming to rest on her own.

The first thing her gaze rested on when she landed on her feet, still held tightly against Aiden, was Adam leaning against the kitchen doorframe, his pose deceptively casual. Ginger knew him well enough to recognize that he was enraged. He stared them down with narrowed eyes, a muscle twitching in his jaw.

"Adam," she began, taking a step toward him, before the look in his eyes stopped her in mid-step. She turned around instead, focusing on what she considered to be the path of least resistance. "Aiden, what are you doing here?" she demanded, struggling to find some composure.

"I know you said we would see each other again as soon as you were finished with your job here, but I couldn't wait another day."

"That's not exactly what I said…" she trailed off, her head spinning. "And we're leaving tomorrow morning, so—"

"That works out even better," he said, slipping an arm around her waist. "You can ride back home with me."

"Aiden," she said slowly, as though she were speaking to a very small child. "I told you over the phone that I still had business to attend to in Atlanta, that I wasn't going back to Billings from here."

"Oh? I don't remember that."

What the hell? "Look, this is really not the best time…"

"Ginger? I thought I heard voices down here."

Her brother's voice floated down the stairs, and he appeared a moment later, pausing on the landing as he took in the scene in the entryway. "Did I miss something?" His gaze switched from Ginger to Adam to Aiden, and back again.

"Welcome to the party," Ginger sighed. "Aiden, can you wait in the kitchen? I'll be right back." She took charge, forcefully leading him into the kitchen. "Chris, would you please keep Aiden company for a minute or two?"

"Sure…"

"Thank you," she told her brother without looking back, reaching instead for Adam's arm. "I need to talk to you. Let's go outside."

"Fine." He shrugged out of her grasp, following lazily behind her and letting the screen door bang against the frame on his way out.

"Please, sit down," she urged, reaching past him to pull the heavy front door closed behind them.

"Thanks, but I'd rather stand."

"Okay. Fine. So we'll stand." She ran a hand through her hair, feeling the tension seeping into her bones and wishing she had thought to pack an aspirin or two. "I know that looked bad," she began, "but there's a very simple explanation for what you saw back there."

"Is there now?" His voice was black silk in the dark.

"If you'll just let me explain, I'm sure—"

"I'm not stopping you. Explain away," he told her, resuming his defensive stance, one hip resting against the side of the house, arms crossed over his chest. "But I don't think there's anything you could say right now that would change my mind."

"It's not—wait. What do you mean there's nothing I can say that will change your mind?" she said, her breath coming in short bursts, heart galloping. "Change your mind about what?"

"You tell me." He shrugged, regarding her with what could only be described as contempt.

The bastard. He was doing it again. How dare he sentence and convict her without so much as a second thought? "I see." She nodded, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. "So that's how it is, then? Mr. I-Am-All-Knowing has already made up his mind about what he saw. Is that what you're telling me?" she demanded, chagrined further when he remained silent.

"That's right, Ginger, make me out to be the bad guy," he finally said. "That's so typical."

"If the shoe fits," she shot back. "You're being unreasonable and that's all there is to it."

"I'm—" he sputtered. "Unreasonable? That's all there is to it? Well, damn me for a fool, Ginger, but I would think that you wrapped up in some Harvard Alumni asshole, his tongue down your throat, would contradict that statement."

"Aiden didn't go to Harvard." Wrong thing to say, she told herself, if the look on Adam's face was anything to go by. "We went through college together."

"So that's the loser you haven't slept with?" He snorted, shoving away from the house and pacing the porch.

"Ah, yes." Ginger frowned, trying to stay focused. "And I have no idea what he is doing here. I told him that I needed some space, that I didn't know how long I was going to be gone, and all, and that I would possibly call him if and when things calmed down. I haven't talked to him since the night he called me at the hotel, our first night in Illinois," Ginger insisted. "I have no idea why he's here right now."

"You certainly left things open-ended with this guy, Gin. I'm surprised at you. What? You were too tired to throw things at his head and yell kiss my ass on the way out?"

"I was tactful," she huffed, struggling to hold on to her temper.

"Oh, that's right, you have to be delicate with those educated types. I suppose you conveniently forgot to mention to him that you were sleeping with me."

"I wasn't sleeping with you at the time," she argued, immediately wishing she could take the words back.

"Remember the laundry room?" he reminded her, his voice low.

"Would you forget about the damn laundry room already?"

"You didn't tell him about me, did you?"

"Are you jealous?" Dumb question. Of course he was.

"No." The word was clipped, final. "I just don't appreciate lies."

"I thought he understood, Adam. I really did. And I had every intention of making it officially clear once I got back to Atlanta. The last thing I expected was for him to show up and kiss me. I really need for you to believe that," she told him, looking deep into his eyes.

"Do I look stupid to you?"

"Excuse me?" At the moment, she wasn't quite sure how to answer that question.

"I find it a little convenient that you never broke it off with this guy and then he shows up here thinking you're going back to Montana with him."

"Really, Adam?" Ginger was incredulous. "You think I am so cold and heartless, not to mention stupid, that I would all but agree to marry you, and then have Aiden show up here? What the hell kind of plan is that?"

"Baby, I wouldn't marry you now if you were the last woman on God's green earth."

Ginger's eyes narrowed and her blood set to boiling, having endured all of the insults from him that she could stomach for the moment.

A snicker from across the street caught her attention. Darlene. The thin young woman sat on her porch swing, idly rocking in the dark, her legs bare in a pair of cutoff shorts, a tall glass in her hand. Ginger set off across the street with single-minded intent, weaving through the maze of toys that littered Darlene and Ron's front lawn and walking straight up to the porch swing. She eyed the glass in the woman's hand. Lemonade.

"Can I borrow this?"

"Sure." Darlene handed over the glass, confused but willing to play along for the moment.

"Thank you." Ginger nodded politely before walking calmly back to where Adam waited, scowling, on the porch. With a smile sweeter than the sugary drink she now held, she very calmly, very deliberately upended the glass over his head.

"Go to hell, Adam Nash."

* * *

"Is he gone?" Ginger asked a half hour later, peeking around the corner of the stairs.

"Which one?" Chris joked, one eyebrow cocked.

"Both of them."

"We're alone."

"Thank God. What time is it?"

"About ten. You okay, Gin?"

"Not really," she responded, disheartened, as she dropped to sit on the step below the landing. "Adam would just as soon see me lying in a ditch right now. Aiden didn't look too thrilled either."

"Did you really dump a glass of lemonade on Adam's head?" he asked, biting back a laugh.

"You're damn right I did. He had it coming. I get that he was upset and jealous, but he was very rude to me, Chris."

"I guess he was," he said weakly, bowing his head.

"Anyway, he had no reason not to believe me. I did speak to Aiden, and I thought he understood. You were there, Chris. Did you think I was too vague?"

"Not too much, no."

"Well, apparently, Aiden didn't get it and I had to dump him again tonight." She sighed. "Not that the big jerk stayed around to see. Is he really renting a car in the morning and driving back to Atlanta on his own?"

"That's what he said."

"The big baby," she huffed. "Hey, Chris?" she asked a moment later, pursing her lips as she replayed the night's events in her mind.

"Yeah?"

"Did Aiden seem a little, I don't know, off?"

"In what way?"

"I'm not sure, but he didn't seem like himself tonight."

"I've only met him once before tonight. Afraid I can't help you there."

"Huh. Well, I guess it doesn't matter now," she muttered, absently picking at the chipped pink nail polish on her big toe. "Are you sure you don't want to leave tonight?"

"Drive to Atlanta on no sleep? No, I don't." He gave her a sympathetic look. "You're ready to go home?"

"I'm ready to get out of this house," she said with a shrug.

"Let me get a few hours of sleep, and I will gladly make that happen," he promised, grabbing his keys off the landing.

"Where are you going?"

"To stop and put gas in the SUV tonight, just in case we want to leave before the gas stations open up in the morning. You want to come with?"

"No, I'll stay here," she replied, resting her chin against one hand.

"You want me to bring you anything back?"

"No." She sighed.

"Okay, I'll bring you back a candy bar. Something chocolate."

"Thanks." She managed a smile and got up to lock the door behind him.

No sooner had her brother's taillights disappeared down the street than Aiden's pulled into the driveway. Oh great, she groaned inwardly, just what I needed, a crappy ending perfectly suited to this crappy day.

She stepped onto the porch, arms crossed. "Aiden, what are you doing here?"

"I want to talk," he said, eyes flat and unseeing.

"I don't think that's a good idea right now," she told him, beginning to feel the first stirrings of alarm. I'm not sure, but he didn't seem like himself tonight…

"I just want to talk, Ginger," he repeated, coming closer.

"Uh, maybe in the morning would be better," she hedged, taking a step back, closer to the door.

"Now." He smiled, a show of teeth, his head bent low as he walked steadily forward.

She didn't waste any more time attempting to figure out this drastic change in the man she had once considered a dear friend and more, didn't try to reason with him. She turned and ran, fleeing into the house, slamming and locking the door behind her. Pressing her back against the solid wood, she tried to slow her racing heart. What in the hell did Aiden think he was doing?

"Ginger, I'm going to come in now. Are you ready for me?"

"Oh sweet Lord," she whispered, her gaze falling on the back door and possibly her only salvation. If she could make it out the back door, she could hop the fence and run away. In the dark, it would be next to impossible for him to pick her out—wouldn't it? She could go to a neighboring house and get help. Safety in numbers. She went for it and was halfway to the back door when a watery voice called out to her.

"You have to come back. Wait."

She stopped, turning slowly toward the stairs, seeing no one. "A-annalise?"

"Wait."

"Wait for what?" she all but shrieked as a crash sounded against the front door, which, thankfully, held. Then she saw a shadow of movement along the dining room window. He was heading toward the backyard.

"The back door," she croaked. It made sense. That door was thinner, older, and the lock was rusty. It wouldn't hold for long.

"Come here."

"Upstairs? You want me to go upstairs?" she asked, forgetting Chris's rule to never talk to spirits, forgetting to be afraid that she was talking to a spirit—and that it was answering her back.

"Okay. Okay," she whispered frantically, turning on her heel and running, taking the stairs two at a time. "Which way?" she asked, hesitating on the landing. When no answer was forthcoming, she ran into the larger bedroom, purely on impulse. The sound of splintering wood sounded from downstairs, and Ginger smothered a terrified scream.

"Ginger…" He was calling out to her from below.

She heard his footsteps on the stairs, clamped her lips shut, then immediately forced herself to breathe. If ever there was a bad time to pass out, this was it. She tightened her hands on the knob, twisting and holding it steady. He was on the landing; she could hear him breathing. It wouldn't take him long to figure out which room she had gone into, considering the doors to the other bedroom and the bathroom were wide open.

Beneath her hand, the knob twisted in the opposite direction. She began to pray.

* * *

Adam drummed his fingers on the glassy surface of the hotel tabletop, his mind racing through the disastrous events of the evening. He couldn't believe she had dumped that lemonade on his head. Just thinking about it, and the look on her face when she'd told him to go to hell, put an involuntary grin on his face. Ginger… He sighed, feeling like an idiot.

"I've fucked things up," he groaned, "again."

He was going to lose her. Again. The realization was like ice flowing through his system, cooling his temper and clearing his head. He had let jealousy cloud his judgment, and he'd placed blame and motives where there hadn't been any. Not on Ginger's part at least. More than that, he had doubted her. It was that knowledge that shamed him the most. Hell.

He grabbed his jacket and the keys to his rental car. He had to see her. Tonight.

* * *

Ginger pulled back on the doorknob with all her might, but knew she was fighting a losing battle. Aiden was in a full rage now, beating against the door.

"Do you love me now?" he screamed over and over again, the sound filling her with real fear. He twisted the knob again, wrenching it to the right. The door began to inch inward, and Ginger was shaking from the effort it took to hold it closed. A shimmer of light shone to her left.

"Annalise, if you're here, help me!" she cried out, muscles straining. "Please! I can't hold this door for much longer."

And suddenly the door began to reverse its forward motion, pushing back until once again the latch clicked into place. "Oh, thank God. Thank you, thank you, thank you," Ginger chanted.

"Fuck!" Aiden growled.

A second later, a car door slammed outside, the fact that it sounded close registering on Ginger's frayed nerves. Chris, she thought, relief rushing through her. Surely the two of them together could take down Aiden. Unless he was armed, she realized, fear seizing her anew. She didn't think he was, though. In fact, she was pretty sure that if he possessed a knife or a gun, he would have already used them on the door.

"Ginger!"

"Adam? Adam!" she screamed, hoping he could hear her over the racket Aiden was making.

Footsteps thundered up the stairs. Then there was a rustling sound, followed by a series of thuds, and finally a big crash. Something—someone—had hit the landing. She closed her eyes. Please, no…

"Ginger? It's okay. He's … gone."

"Adam." Relief made her weak, and she threw open the door, stumbling into the hallway and colliding with him.

"Don't look down," he implored, but it was too late.

She stared in shock at the bottom of the stairs where Aiden lay on the landing, his neck twisted at an impossible angle. "What happened?"

"He tried to rush me. It was like he didn't even see me. I ducked and he tripped and flew down the stairs. When did he come back? Where's Chris?"

"A-at the gas station. Aiden showed up right after Chris left. He was angry. What are you doing here?" She raised dazed eyes to his and saw her shock mirrored there. "Annalise was here," she blurted. "She told me to come upstairs, and she helped me hold the door closed."

"I'm just thankful you're alive," Adam whispered, his voice breaking.

"Adam, she spoke to me. I heard her voice so clearly." She froze, a thought beginning to form, breaking through the remnants of numb shock.

"Ginger? What is it?"

"The well," she gasped. "Her voice sounds like it's underwater, because it is. Or it was." She frowned. "Adam, I think he put her in the well."

"The one in the backyard?"

Ginger nodded, certain that she was correct.

Neither of them heard the car pull into the driveway.

"Ginger?" Chris yelled from downstairs. "I've got your candy bar. Sorry it took so long. I bought a new map and some snacks for the road. What are all those cars doing in the—" He stopped, nearly tripping over the body on the landing.

"I'm okay, Chris. Adam's up here with me."

Chris looked down at the body for long moments before raising his eyes to Adam and Ginger and hitching his thumb toward the lifeless figure at the bottom of the stairs.

"Are we calling the police, or do I need to put him in the trunk?"