Without warning, Joe smashed the back of Mark’s head with his own, larger weapon. Except for the crack of the pistol striking his head, Mark lost consciousness soundlessly.
Pepper whined and waited for a command from Emma.
Joe pointed the gun at Pepper. “Keep control of that dog, or he’s gonna get shot again.”
Emma said, “She, goddamnit! The dog’s female.”
Nonetheless, Emma was not going to let Pepper take another bullet for her. She told Pepper to stand down.
Joe tossed Mark’s handcuffs to Emma. “Handcuff yourself to your buddy.”
Emma did as she was told. Joe came over and tightened the cuff until it bit into her wrist. He searched Emma. He quickly found her key ring. While patting her down, he paused to goose her crotch.
Joe smirked when she spat, Pig!”
He threw the key ring deep into the woods. He left the Maglite on the driveway.
Keeping the gun pointed at Pepper, Joe said to Emma, “I’ll be back, deal with you later.”
Joe Henderson walked back to his Corvette and sped away.
Emma examined Mark’s head wound. There was copious blood, and the gash at the back of his head would need sutures. Nothing life-threatening, and she didn’t think he would be unconscious for long. With brute strength aided by adrenaline, she managed to rip off a good part of his shirt, which she used to reduce the bleeding.
Handcuffed to Mark, Emma’s days on the run were over.
She maintained steady pressure on Mark’s laceration.
After a few moments of direct pressure, she tried rubbing her knuckles over his sternum to stimulate consciousness, but Mark remained unresponsive.
Suddenly, Emma had a crazy idea.
With her uncuffed hand she opened her back pocket where her keys had been—her car key, house key, and her police-issued, universal handcuff key. She instructed Pepper to smell her yawning pocket.
Search, she ordered.
Pepper, who had been watching the events unfold, tore into the woods in precisely the same direction in which Joe had thrown the keys.
While Pepper furiously trampled the undergrowth, Emma recovered her Maglite and wondered, exactly how clever is my dog?
Moments later, Pepper was back, proudly dangling the key ring from her front teeth.
Omigod! “Good girl, Sgt. Pepper,” she said, showering her with pats.
If the key fits, you must convict popped into her head.
Blessedly, the key fit.
She unmanacled herself and Mark. With another strip from his shirt, she tied her makeshift bandage tightly to his wound. “Help is coming,” she promised.
With the help of the Maglite, she found Mark’s gun in the bushes.
With Pepper at her heels, she reached her car in seconds … but not in time to see the distinctive taillights of a Corvette speeding away.
In the car and for the umpteenth time, she dialed 911 and requested an ambulance and a BOLO for the yellow Corvette.
She ignored the dispatcher’s urgent questions.
69
Too Pervy
With only a hunch to propel her, Emma headed south.
What if Joe, having snatched Sophie, had thrown her to his wolves—Lincoln’s pervy predators?
Sophie’s life might depend on her.
Emma had no trouble remembering that Detective Dave Swanson had told her that Joe operated his sleazy business on River Street in Lincoln.
Nor did she have any trouble remembering that Hampshire’s River Street had been the beginning link of this entire murderous chain.
She drove the thirty-five minutes to Lincoln. On River, which was only a few blocks long, she searched for Joe’s Corvette. She didn’t spot it, but, as she rolled down the street, she did notice a burly bouncer-type standing in front of the door to an old mill building. His arms were crossed, and he watched her pass. Emma took the next turn and parked her car.
Why would a man be loitering in front of a former mill at this time of night unless he was guarding something within?
Emma had never been a fearful person, thanks largely to Archie. That night she felt fearless. And close to resolution.
She grabbed her Maglite and fashioned a makeshift leash for Pepper using her belt. Although River Street wasn’t exactly residential, she didn’t think the guard would worry about a woman out for a late-night dog walk. On the other hand, everyone got nervous when Pepper approached off-leash. She needed to get close to him without him becoming defensive or, worse, offensive.
She turned the corner, on which there was a streetlight. He immediately spotted her. Dropping his arms to his sides, he turned and faced her, watching carefully. Emma’s mouth was dry, but she managed to whistle a tune—“You Can’t Always Get What You Want”—while she strolled at a leisurely pace. Pepper helped the illusion by sniffing next to a fire hydrant and squatting to pee.
When she was about ten feet away, Emma said, “Nice evening.”
The thug glared at her and didn’t answer.
She pulled Mark’s gun from her waistband and pointed it at his bloated belly.
“Have I got your attention?” she said.
He still didn’t reply, but he nodded his head, yes.
“Put your right hand on top of your head, and empty your pockets with your left hand. Slowly.”
“Crazy bitch!” he muttered.
“You know, you’re the second guy tonight to call me a crazy bitch. It’s beginning to wear on me.”
“Fuck you, lady. You chose the wrong dude to rob. And what’s with the dog?”
She repeated, “Empty your pockets.”
He removed a key ring, a cell phone, a pack of Marlboros, and an old Zippo engraved with the Harley-Davidson logo. He reached out to hand them to her.
Emma took a step back. “No way.” She told him to place them on the ground. He complied.
“Is Joe Henderson inside?”
That caught his attention. His head snapped up. “You a cop?”
She said, “Not exactly.”
“The name isn’t familiar.”
“Oh, come on, man, it’s late, and I’m getting tired.” She cocked the hammer and pointed the gun of the guy’s head. “Is Joe inside? And who else is with him?”
She expected him to continue to stonewall, and she wasn’t sure exactly what you would do about it. She wasn’t going to shoot him. But then he said, “Yeah, Joe’s inside.”
“Who else?”
He sighed. “Fuck it,” he said. “One customer and the new girl. The other girls are locked up. Asleep, I guess.”
She retrieved the keys and his cell phone, leaving his smokes and lighter on the sidewalk. “You and I are going to take a walk around the corner. Keep your hands on your head. Walk slowly.”
At the corner he stopped. She could feel him tense like he was about to make his play. She took a few steps backward, released Pepper. When he turned, Pepper snarled and bared her fangs.
His hand flew to his mouth. He sputtered, “Christ, lady, keep that fucker away from me! I’ll do what you say.”
She used Mark’s handcuffs to secure him to a stop sign. “One peep out of you, and I send my partner back to rip your face off.”
The third key she tried opened the mill’s steel door. There were low-wattage bulbs which barely illuminated a dim corridor. She used her Maglite. She couldn’t hear anything. She ordered Pepper to keep silent. Together they crept down the corridor, at the end of which there was a T with two additional corridors branching off. Each had rows of doors on either side like the floor of a hotel. They were numbered. All of the doors had heavy slide bolts locking the occupants inside.
Except one.
The “office?”
Unlike the other doors, this one was hinged to open outward.
She looked at Pepper and mouthed the Ready command.
Next, she grasped the knob and threw open the door. Pepper charged inside.
When she heard a cry, Emma followe
d Pepper into the room.
Pepper’s jaws were locked around Joe’s right wrist. He was screaming for help. His weapon was on the floor. Emma picked up his gun and told Pepper to Stand Down.
Joe shrieked, “Goddamnit, your dog broke my fucking arm.”
“Tell me where Sophie is,” Emma said quickly, “or I’ll tell her to break your other fucking arm.”
“Fuck you. You busted me for DUI. You kneed me in the balls. My lawyer says I may go to prison just for taking Sophie on a date. Ethan Jackson fucked me over, too. He fucking robbed me,” Joe ranted. “I fucked Georgia but in a different way. I despise all your friends. What do you fucking think I want? I want you to pay for what you’ve done.”
“Enough!” Emma shouted. “Where is Sophie?”
She stared at Joe. He glared back at her. She couldn’t decide whether his expression reflected fury, pain, despair, or all three.
Finally, with his useless right arm dangling at his side, Joe said, “Room Nine.”
“Is she alone?” Emma said, fearing the answer.
“Of course not!”
Unbelievably, Joe then staggered toward her with his left fist cocked.
“Jesus, Joe, don’t you ever learn from your mistakes?” Before he finished speaking, Pepper’s powerful jaws seized his left wrist. Emma heard at least one bone snap. He screamed.
Emma ordered Pepper to guard him while she ran down the corridor to Room Nine.
By now, the john must have heard the commotion.
She snapped open the slide bolt and burst into Nine.
Emma took in the whole scene in the time it would take a camera’s shutter to open and close.
Sophie was naked, spread-eagle on the bed, wrists and ankles tied to bedposts. The thin, balding customer looked to be in his early sixties. His trousers and underpants were around his ankles. He was masturbating, and Sophie was weeping.
The john stared at Emma, terrified.
Apparently, Joe’s screams hadn’t penetrated his concentration.
For Sophie, of course, the situation was horrific, but Emma took the long view. Sophie’s first perv was too pervy to perform what john’s usually pay for.
With the barrel of her Maglite, Emma clocked his penis. A full four D-cells worth of pain. The john fled the room, screaming.
She hugged Sophie for a long time before untying her. The girl couldn’t stop shaking and moaning. Emma knew it would take her some time to recover from the night’s events. She felt for her.
With Sophie dressed, they ran back to Joe’s office.
Pepper was a good, brave dog, but she wasn’t smart enough to know that a phone could be a weapon, too. Emma heard Joe say, “I don’t give a shit what time it is. Get your ass down here and blow this cunt—”
“Give it up Joe. Put the phone down and come with me.” To Sophie and Pepper, she said, “Best we be getting out of here.”
At the corner of River Street and Blackberry, she uncuffed the goon from the stop sign, saying, “Get lost.”
She made Joe sit on the sidewalk and shackled his ankles together around the same stop sign. No matter what he had done, she didn’t want to cause him any more physical pain by ’cuffing his broken wrists. His real pain would come soon enough.
She still didn’t know for sure if Joe was Mr. Sharpie.
They hurried back to Emma’s car and flew away before Joe’s other goon arrived.
70
“Is Joe our guy?”
Emma found a quiet street and pulled over. She assured Sophie, whose arms were tightly wrapped around Pepper, sobbing, that she would be taking her home to her parents after she made a phone call. Sophie’s muffled voice told her that she understood.
Emma wasn’t quite sure whom to call—Detective Dave Swanson, Buzz or Caroline, or Skip Munro. After a moment, she settled on Lt. Skip Munro. She expected to wake him up.
“Skip, it’s Emma Thorne—”
“Are you okay?” he interrupted. “Jesus, you’ve been through hell. We are all so sorry—”
She interrupted him right back. “No time for apologies.” Although I’ll make time later. “You can find Joe Henderson at the corner of River and Blackberry Streets in Lincoln. I left him ankle-cuffed to a stop sign.”
“Hold on.” Emma could hear Skip bark orders into a portable. “I’m back. Is Joe our guy?”
“What do you think?”
“Honestly, we’re still not sure. Either Joe or Georgia. We’re still in Georgia’s basement, still processing the scene.”
Emma’s heart skipped. She had to take multiple deep breaths before asking, “Is … is Will okay?”
“Jesus, you don’t know? We thought you were still here when it happened.” His voice went quiet for a moment.
“Skip, tell me about Will. Right. Now.”
“Prepare yourself. Your husband was hit. Will took a head shot. Emma, he’s, um, in very rough shape. They choppered him to Hartford Hospital, and, last we heard, he was still in surgery. He is gravely injured.”
“I see.”
Emma cursed Georgia.
“Any word on Mark Byrne?” she asked.
“Caroline Stoner got an update on Byrne. He’s okay. A few stitches, but they’re insisting he stay overnight at Hampshire Hospital for observation.”
“I see,” she said again in a hollow voice. “Look, I’ve got to go.”
Before she pushed End, Skip was shouting into the phone, begging her to tell him where she was.
Emma was having none of it. She had to find Georgia.
Meantime, Emma drove Sophie home. “How’re you holding up?” she asked her. She was still in the backseat hugging Pepper. “Do you want to talk about what happened? It must have been truly scary.”
In a clear voice, Sophie said, “If it’s okay with you, I’d rather talk to my mom.”
Emma thought that sounded eminently grown-up and continued in silence to Sophie’s emotional reunion with Karen and Henry King, her grateful parents. They were so profuse with their thanks that Emma had to cut them off.
She had to find Georgia Foster.
71
Not Particularly Proudly
It was nearly three in the morning by the time Pepper and Emma arrived in Emma’s driveway. They were about to exit the car when a text arrived.
Emma gasped as she read it.
If it weren’t for you, Will would be safe and happy. We were so joyful. Living together was what we both have always wanted. Now, I have nothing. I’ll have to leave Hampshire, leave my parents and my fish behind. You have destroyed everything I ever cared about, which is why I am going to kill you.
Insanity.
Like a graphite-lubricated lock, the tumblers in Emma’s brain snapped into place. Everything was now clear.
Yet, she was left with a void.
She still didn’t have Georgia.
Her thumbs flew over the virtual keyboard.
Georgia, we need to talk. Where r u?
She stared at the Messages app on the phone, but no text appeared. She scoured her brain for all the places Georgia might hole up. Her parents’ house? Stella’s empty apartment? Somewhere in a stolen vehicle … unfindable?
A new text in a gray thought-bubble populated Emma’s screen.
Get out of my car. There is some rope in the trunk. Do you know how to tie a bowline? It’s the King of Knots. Tie Pepper to the tree right next to the southwest corner of your house. Strip down to your underwear and come inside.
At least she didn’t have to look any further for Georgia.
She obeyed the orders. She considered faking the knot, but Georgia aimed a powerful flashlight out the window fully illuminating her knot-tying. On the front stoop, Emma stripped and entered her own house in a bra and panties. Even so compromised, Emma walked inside with a wellspring of anger so cavernous nothing could frighten her. She knew that whatever happened this was their end-game. One of the two would likely not survive. She faced Georgia alone. No Skip. No Mark. No Hampshire
PD. And, most perilously, no Pepper.
She entered her house, instinctively leaving the door open behind her. Would someone come to help her? No, of course not.
The hallway was dark. From the living room, also dark, she heard Georgia say, “Come in, and don’t do anything stupid.” As Emma entered the living room, Georgia turned on a table lamp and told her to stand still. Her sister-in-law was wearing a T-shirt and shorts. She must have changed after shooting Will. She held a chrome revolver, doubtless the same one she’d used on Will. Emma immediately noticed the bandage around Georgia’s upper arm, the wound she’d sustained at Vanessa’s house. The other arm, which Emma had broken in the vault, was in a sling. Georgia’s pupils were constricted, probably from pain-killers. She was sitting in an armchair.
Georgia gestured with the revolver and said, “Take off your panties and let’s see if you have the Girls’ Club triangle like your buddies Deb and Vanessa.”
“Take off my panties? Are you completely insane? Forget that, I already know the answer.”
It was obvious to Emma that she couldn’t take Georgia’s admission into a court of law, but it was equally obvious that Will’s twin sister was Ms. Sharpie.
“Why did you do it?” Emma asked. “Why did you kill all those innocent people? For what conceivable reason should they have died? Do you know that Will is still in surgery? He may die, Georgia. Did you want that, too?”
“Shut your sniveling face! I intend to enjoy this moment.”
“Enjoy?” Emma asked incredulously. “What about Will?”
Georgia lifted the pistol with her bandaged arm, aiming it at Emma’s face. Emma could see that the muzzle was pointed at a spot directly between her eyes. Pain killers or no, Georgia’s gun hand was steady.
“Why don’t we start,” Emma said, “with Will, then.”
For the first time, Georgia’s gun hand drifted away from Emma’s face. “Will was not my fault. That one’s on you, Emma.”
Not a very productive back and forth, Emma decided. Time to poke the snake.
Ever So Silent Page 31