I stepped back out, and shut the door quietly behind me. Billy stared with curious, guarded eyes as I walked slowly back into the front room. "I think I'll let him get some rest."
Billy nodded, and then we gazed at each other for a minute. I was dying to ask him about his part in this.
What did he think of what his son had become? But I knew how he'd supported Sam from the very beginning, and so I supposed the murders must not bother him. How he justified that to himself I couldn't imagine.
I could see many questions for me in his dark eyes, but he didn't voice them either. "Look," I said, breaking the loud silence. "I'll be down at the beach for a while. When he wakes up, tell him I'm waiting for him, okay?"
"Sure, sure," Billy agreed.
I wondered if he really would. Well, if he didn't, I'd tried, right?
I drove down to First Beach and parked in the empty dirt lot. It was still dark–the gloomy predawn of a cloudy day–and when I cut the headlights it was hard to see. I had to let my eyes adjust before I could find the path that led through the tall hedge of weeds. It was colder here, with the wind whipping off the black water, and I shoved my hands deep into the pockets of my winter jacket. At least the rain had stopped.
I paced down the beach toward the north seawall. I couldn't see St. James or the other islands, just the vague shape of the water's edge. I picked my way carefully across the rocks, watching out for driftwood that might trip me.
I found what I was looking for before I realized I was looking for it. It materialized out of the gloom when it was just a few feet away: a long bone-white driftwood tree stranded deep on the rocks. The roots twisted up at the seaward end, like a hundred brittle tentacles. I couldn't be sure that it was the same tree where Jacob and I had had our first conversation–a conversation that had begun so many different, tangled threads of my life–but it seemed to be in about the same place I sat down where I'd sat before, and stared out across the invisible sea.
Seeing Jacob like that–innocent and vulnerable in sleep–had stolen all my revulsion, dissolved all my anger. I still couldn't turn a blind sye to what was happening, like Billy seemed to, but I couldn't condemn Jacob for it either. Love didn't work that way, I decided. Once you cared about a person, it was impossible to be logical about them anymore. Jacob was my friend whether he killed people or not. And I didn't know what I was going to do about that.
When I pictured him sleeping so peacefully, I felt an overpowering urge to protect him. Completely illogical.
Illogical or not, I brooded over the memory his peaceful face, trying to come up with some answer, some way to shelter him, while the sky slowly turned gray.
"Hi, Bella."
Jacob's voice came from the darkness and made me jump. It was soft, almost shy, but I'd been expecting some forewarning from the noisy rocks, and so it still startled me. I could see his silhouette against the coming sunrise–it looked enormous.
"Jake?"
He stood several paces away, shifting his weight from foot to foot anxiously. "Billy told me you came by–didn't take you very long, did it? I knew you could figure it out." "Yeah, I remember the right story now," I whispered.
It was quiet for a long moment and, though it was still too dark to see well, my skin prickled as if his eyes were searching my face. There must have been enough light for him to read my expression, because when he spoke again, his voice was suddenly acidic.
"You could have just called," he said harshly.
I nodded. "I know."
Jacob started pacing along the rocks. If I listened very hard, I could just hear the gentle brush of his feet on the rocks behind the sound of the waves. The rocks had clattered like castanets for me.
"Why did you come?" he demanded, not halting his angry stride.
"I thought it would be better face-to-face." He snorted. "Oh, much better." "Jacob, I have to warn you–" "About the rangers and the hunters? Don't worry about it. We already know."
"Don't worry about it?" I demanded in disbelief. "Jake, they've got guns! They're setting traps and offering rewards and–"
"We can take care of ourselves," he growled, still pacing. "They're not going to catch anything. They're only making it more difficult–they'll start disappearing soon enough, too."
"Jake!" I hissed. "What? It's just a fact."
My voice was pale with revulsion. "How can you… feel that way? You know these people. Charlie's out there!" The thought made my stomach twist.