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  “No, not really. It’s just… I thought I was going to die in there,” I admitted, laughing uneasily when I heard the words. They sounded strange. Surreal. A distance was already growing between the Anna who stood here chatting with Valeria, and that scared-shitless woman desperately sucking air from a tiny crack beneath the door. Maybe confronting death was just too big, too awful for my normal, everyday consciousness to dwell on for long, let alone comprehend.

  “It’ll just make me feel better to cover all the bases and hear what Jesse has to say,” I assured, smiling in the face of Valeria’s obvious concern.

  She probably was starting to suspect I was crazy.

  I was beginning to wonder about the same thing myself.

  Chapter Eleven

  The emotional distance between my sharp fear of what had happened in the sauna and my typical, everyday sense of safety and normalcy continued to grow. So much so that by the time Evan called at around six thirty that evening, I didn’t have to try overly hard to sound light and carefree in our conversation.

  I’d tell him about what had happened in the sauna eventually. But I didn’t want him to worry about it while he was away and had those important meetings on his mind. Especially since I’d gone to the viewing room earlier and spoken to Jesse.

  Jesse had been just as Valeria described: friendly and unassuming. I couldn’t have imagined a less likely candidate for attempted murder. The idea had never seemed more ludicrous than when I looked into his frank, open face.

  It was the first time I’d been in the viewing room since that day after we’d arrived at Les Jumeaux. I was pleased to see the garish fabrics and the sickening odor were long gone. The space had been completely gutted, even the drywall torn out, leaving the wood beams exposed. Piles of rubble dotted the room. In one, I noticed a strip of vivid scarlet fabric amongst the torn white drywall and splintered wood planks.

  A man in his late forties greeted me when I cautiously entered the large room, apologizing for the intrusion. He said his name was Dave Sanchez, and he seemed to be the second-in-command, acting as supervisor in absence of Keith, the man who owned the construction business and Evan’s acquaintance.

  “I’m the one who asked Jesse to take the box upstairs to Mr. Halifax,” Dave explained after I’d stated my case and he’d called Jesse over at my request. “I hope that it wasn’t a problem that I sent him up to the main house?”

  “No, not at all,” I assured, smiling at Jesse who stood awkwardly next to Dave.

  “Something happened to me over in the workout facility at around the same time you went upstairs. It wasn’t a big deal. But when Valeria mentioned that you’d been up to the kitchen at around the same time, I just wanted to ask: did you see anyone or anything out of place on your way to or from the kitchen?” I asked Jesse.

  “No, ma’am,” Jesse said, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “I did hear some pounding. It was coming from a different part of the house, so I didn’t think it was us,” he said, holding up the hammer he clutched in his hand. “I mentioned hearing it to Valeria, when I gave her the box.”

  “Yes. She told me you’d mentioned it, thank you,” I said.

  “You didn’t give the box to Mr. Halifax, like I told you?” Dave asked Jesse sharply.

  Jesse started to open his mouth to defend himself, but I spoke first.

  “Evan was away for the afternoon,” I explained, keeping it vague. There was no need to tell people Evan was away for the entire weekend. I started to thank them for talking with me when I noticed Dave’s troubled expression.

  “Is everything all right?” I asked him.

  “Yes. But that box… ”

  “Yeah, what about that?” I wondered frankly. The shock of being locked in the sauna, and my physical recovery afterward, had dampened my curiosity about this mysterious box. Until now, anyway. “Valeria mentioned that you found it here, in this room?”

  “Yeah,” Dave said, shifting on his feet. “The bar and the cabinet were one of the last things we tore down. We found it in there in a locked compartment. I thought it should go to Mr. Halifax right away. I didn’t realize he wasn’t here, at the house.”

  “I’ll make sure he gets it the second he comes back. Well, thanks for taking a second to talk to me.”

  As I came downstairs after talking to Evan on the phone, a divine scent entered my nose.

  “Whatever you’re making smells fantastic,” I told Valeria as I entered the kitchen.

  “Coq au vin and oven roasted asparagus,” Valeria said. “Do you want to eat out on the terrace?”

  “No, why don’t we just sit here at the counter,” I suggested, pointing at several stools situated next to the island.

  “We?” Valeria asked, straightening with a pan in her hand, her eyes wide. “You want me to eat with you?”

  “Uh… yeah, is that okay?”

  “I guess. I don’t know,” she laughed as she set down the asparagus. “I’ve never really had a job like this before. I don’t know the rules, exactly. I don’t want to break any accidentally.”

  “Well, I’ve certainly never had someone… you know, cooking and doing things for me before,” I confessed. “It feels really weird for me, too.” I realized Valeria seemed as uncomfortable as I did, and rallied.

  “Look, there’s no doubt that Evan didn’t hire you to be a typical cook and maid. I think he wanted you to be another friendly face around the house. And you’ve really been that so far. You were nice enough to come out here and spend the weekend with me, and that’s not at all part of your job duties. Maybe we should just sort of figure things out as we go along?”

  “Sounds good to me,” Valeria said gamely.

  “And in that spirit… can we just open up a bottle of wine and eat this amazing dinner you made at the counter?” I asked hopefully.

  Valeria laughed and nodded.

  I spent half the meal gushing over how delicious the food she’d prepared was. I wasn’t lying. Valeria clearly possessed layers of talent.

  In retrospect, I think we both wanted to avoid the topic of what had happened in the sauna. For me, the whole memory had become charged with fear, embarrassment, and doubt. For Valeria, I imagine it was just yet another weird thing she had to deal with in regard to her new employers.

  Instead, we talked about our planned dive tomorrow.

  “I talked to Manny, and he says he can take us out on the boat,” Valeria said.

  “That’s great,” I replied, taking a sip of wine. The Languedoc red I’d chosen to go with dinner had a real kick to it. Maybe that—or the unusual stress of the day—was responsible for what I said next.

  “So… you and Wes Ryder?” I said with a little twitch to my shoulders and a grin. “What’s the story there?”

  I immediately regretted my off-the-cuff comment when Valeria’s smile vanished in a split second. I set down my wineglass.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.” I rolled my eyes. “Jesus, this wine is strong. Forget I said it. I just thought—”

  “It’s okay,” Valeria interrupted. She gave a shaky smile. “I’m not the one who wanted to keep it secret.”

  “Just forget I mentioned it,” I said, mortified.

  “No, it’s okay. Wes and I met at the casino I used to waitress at, a couple months ago. He was a regular.”

  “At the bar?”

  “No, at the tables,” she said evenly.

  “Oh,” I said, sitting back slightly and trying to picture it. Valeria smiled at my reaction.

  “Don’t look so shocked, Anna. This is Nevada. People gamble. Besides, gambling isn’t even the worst of Wes’s habits. But as to why we’re keeping it secret, I think Wes didn’t want me to mention it because of Evan.”

  “Evan?”

  “Because Wes and Evan are old friends? And Evan asked him for a recommendatio
n for the job here at Les Jumeaux, and Wes suggested me… ”

  She trailed off, looking uncomfortable.

  “I see. You guys were worried Evan would think Wes recommended you, just because—”

  “We’re sleeping together. Yeah,” Valeria said, her voice sounding rough. She glanced up at me from beneath lowered lashes and sighed.

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean to be sharp. It’s just that… well, that’s all there really is between Wes and me. Sex, I mean. That’s all he wants there to be,” she added under her breath.

  “And you want there to be more?”

  She shrugged and moved some chicken around her plate.

  “He’s way out of my league. He’s a doctor and he comes from a really old, good family in town.”

  “Whatever good means. Your family sounds every bit as good, in my book.”

  She gave me a little smile.

  “Anyway, it doesn’t matter about the job,” I told her bracingly. “Wes was right to recommend you, whatever the status of your relationship. Forget the fact that you saved my life earlier. I would have hired you for this meal alone,” I told her, taking another succulent bite of chicken. Something caught my eye.

  “Oh,” I cried out, swallowing and setting down my fork. “Is that the box?”

  I pointed at a dusty mahogany box on the shelf adjacent to my knees. It was about two feet wide and nine or ten inches deep, with elaborate carving on it. It was really more of a small chest, I realized. I hadn’t noticed it when we first sat down at the island.

  “Yeah. That’s what Jesse brought upstairs. I wasn’t sure what to do with it, so I just stuck it there for now,” Valeria said, sounding relieved to change the subject.

  I leapt down from my barstool. “Have you opened it yet?” I asked Valeria, bending down to get the box.

  “No… I wouldn’t.”

  I straightened, holding the heavy box in my hands. Valeria’s cheeks were flushed even more than they had been before. I shook my head once in regret. I was rotten at dealing with a paid employee in the house.

  Lady of the manor I was not.

  “Of course you wouldn’t,” I said, giving her an apologetic glance before I set the heavy box on the top of the island. I ran my fingers along the seam and over the bronze clasp. “I’m not sure I know how to open—Ah,” I said in satisfaction when I felt the fastener give. I flipped open the box.

  For several seconds, my brain didn’t entirely comprehend the contents.

  They were sex things—handcuffs, a leather lasher, a ball gag, leather straps and restraints and other things I didn’t immediately recognize. I also saw a clear bag filled with various colored capsules.

  There were a dozen or so Blu-ray discs with hand-written abbreviations on them and dates. I read one: A, E, J &W, June 2003.

  I slammed the lid shut. Valeria jumped where she sat across the island. One glance at her face and I knew she hadn’t seen what I had. The lid had blocked her view.

  “It’s some files and documents,” I said, lifting the box. “I’ll just take it over to Evan’s office. Back in a second.”

  I felt strangely numb as I walked down the hallway, burning box in tow. Maybe it was naïve of me. Evan and I had a very active, extremely good sex life, after all.

  At least I’d thought we had.

  But we’d never crossed the boundary into the box territory. We’d never restrained each other up with cuffs or leather straps, or whipped each other, or taken drugs to enhance our response… or made movies.

  Again, I pictured that garish viewing room as it had been, its air of cloying decadence and decay.

  To whom had the box belonged? I wondered as I entered Evan’s office. He’d left a lamp on near the couch. I walked through the shadowed room and set down the box on his desk. It felt weird, like I didn’t know whether I was leaving him something he’d find offensive, or something forbidden.

  Exciting?

  What would Evan think when he saw it? How would he feel about me having seen it? I resisted a wild urge to open the box again. There had been an “E” in that list of letters and a date. Had that “E” referred to Elizabeth?

  Or Evan?

  Maybe both of them had been involved? My assumption was that the other initials referred to other participants.

  A wave of nausea swept through me. I choked back a strong urge to vomit.

  That old feeling of immaturity and inadequacy that I’d felt frequently at the beginning of Evan’s and my relationship plunged through me again, seemingly a thousand times sharper this time. It was as if it’d been there all along, but held at bay by Evan’s obvious desire for me.

  By the fact that he’d made me his wife.

  But what did I really know about him? What kind of cravings did he keep locked inside him?

  Because I’m sinful.

  I heard his muffled, deep voice echo around my head, shame and anger knitted into every uttered word. I gripped the edge of his desk and swallowed back my nausea.

  You knew he had a past when you married him. You can’t hold things over his head that he did in another lifetime.

  But what if those cravings remained, and he’s stifling them. For me?

  Had Elizabeth shared in his desires at one point in his life… fulfilled them? I recalled him speaking with so much emotion. “I loved Elizabeth once, that’s true. I used to think she was the most perfect thing in existence.”

  I groaned softly and pushed myself away from the desk. It was too much.

  I walked away from the box.

  Inevitably, I’d have to deal with it when I showed it to Evan after he returned. I’d have to cope with his response to it, whatever that might be.

  But at that moment, that box represented mysteries I was too inexperienced—or maybe too unwilling—to confront.

  Chapter Twelve

  I thought I’d dream that night, but maybe my brain couldn’t handle any more stress after what I’d been through that day. I awoke feeling surprisingly refreshed to a pristine summer morning like only Tahoe can produce. Fears and doubts wilted and crumbled on a day like today.

  Valeria’s brother arrived at around noon, just as I was coming down from the overlook after a decent morning of painting. Manny Caro reminded me of a male version of Valeria: compact, cute, and charming, with that athletic ease and comfort in his skin that I admired so much.

  Valeria did another careful inspection of the dive equipment we planned to use. After she gave the okay, Manny, Valeria, and I hauled everything we needed out to the cruiser. Ever since Valeria had mentioned this drastic drop-off close to the shore—the Great Wall, as she’d called it—I was eager to explore it.

  As I’d already discovered with Evan, scuba diving in Tahoe is not like diving in the ocean. There are no cute fish zipping around you, or colorful coral, or seaweed. The clarity of the water is stunning, but the underwater world is strangely barren.

  My dive with Evan had been fantastic. I hadn’t told him this, but I’d also found it eerie. Beneath the surface, Tahoe was a beautiful but haunted place. As Evan and I got to a depth of forty feet or so, the sunlight penetrating the crystalline water turned an inky blue. There was a strange stillness that made me feel watched by some vast, cold consciousness.

  Today, Manny used the sonar onboard the cruiser to find a good spot for our dive. We didn’t go out far. As I sat on the edge of the boat with Valeria, I could easily see the rocky shore and Les Jumeaux, and even the beige, waterproof locker up on the overlook where I stored my painting supplies.

  Valeria gave me thumbs-up. We went over the edge into shallow water, only twenty-five feet or so deep. Once I’d gotten my bearings in the cerulean, sunlight-flooded waters, I spotted Valeria. She waved, and I followed her lead.

  The surface below us consisted of a whitish-gray, rough sand. Everything looked bleached and clean.
Dead. Sunlight poured around us, but I saw no signs of life. There was something skeletal about diving in Tahoe. Something secret.

  Suddenly, the floor dropped out beneath us. We swam over a cliff into a yawning, black depth. A thrill passed through me. Coldness immediately penetrated the neoprene of my suit.

  Valeria turned in the water in front of me and pointed down. I nodded and followed her down the vast, vertical stone wall. I’d never seen anything like it. It was epic in size. We were like little ants scurrying in the water in front of it.

  We descended along the wall, forty feet, fifty feet. It gave me some kind of primitive, primal feeling of mingled awe and fear. I remembered how the scuba guide Evan had hired had told us jokingly about the famous diver Jacques Cousteau. Rumor had it that years ago, Cousteau went scuba diving in Lake Tahoe. He emerged from the water and appeared to be emotionally shaken. “The world is not ready for what I have seen,” Cousteau allegedly said.

  I had no problem believing that rumor as Valeria and I swam deeper along that enormous stone wall, Valeria slightly ahead of me. The light deepened to a gloomy cobalt blue. Despite the sound of air gurgling from my buoyancy-compensating device, I was struck by an overwhelming sense of silence and stillness.

  At around sixty feet below the surface, Valeria paused ahead of me and waved her arms in excitement. I swam deeper and realized why. We’d come upon a break in the wall. The underwater cavern opening must have been thirty feet long. I couldn’t even tell how wide it was because the entrance spread so far. Valeria pointed into the hole and made a dive hand signal. I understood. She’d asked if I wanted to enter the large cave opening—not far, just a few feet to look around.

  I gave her the “okay” sign in response.

  We took out our dive lights. Valeria entered the large cavern first, her light beaming a path. I was relieved to see that the walls were wide and spacious. They shone a ghostly white. I had the brief impression I swam inside a giant stone whale. Adrenaline spiked through me, making my flesh tingle with heat despite the cold just outside my suit.