“It will just take a minute.”
“You can’t get back there. Katz wrecked her car; it’s blocking the road.”
“Is she dead?”
“Is she dead?” she repeated incredulously. “What you should have asked is ‘What’s she doin’ out here?’”
“Okay, fine,” he said, throwing his hands up in the air, irritated. “What are you doin’ here? You’re a freakin’ missing person. Dave went down and filled out the paperwork. The law is looking for you all over the country.”
“I drove out here Tuesday to get my diet shakes.”
“What?” Stevie asked skeptically.
“Leonard makes me diet shakes. When I got here, he met me at the door and said his car was in the shop and asked me to take him to town. I said okay. We both went in the house and I paid him for the shakes. Then we’re just about ready to leave the house when your yahoo cousin, Jimmy—”
Stevie interrupted, “Was anyone else with him?”
“Ahhh, no,” she said arrogantly. “But the way Jimmy was carrying on, it sounded like there was. He was so drunk, or high on something.”
“Well, hurry up with your yammerin’. Finish the story. We need to git goin’.”
“Leonard got rough with me and yanked my bag off my shoulder—my damn Coach bag that cost me a fortune. He took my bag and my keys! Then he tells me to hide in the closet. He goes outside and then I heard shouting. I’m peekin’ out the window and see Leonard and Jimmy get into a fight. Jimmy stuck him with a knife. Then he threw Leonard into the back seat of my brand new car and took off.”
“Why didn’t you try and walk to get help? It ain’t that far to walk to the main drag.”
“In these shoes?” she answered. “If you didn’t notice, they’ve got a three-inch heel.”
Stevie shook his head. “Barbie, why do you wear those freakin’ shoes in the country?”
“I waited a few minutes, then ran out to Jimmy’s truck. I thought the numbnut would have left the keys in the ignition, but no dice. I searched everywhere in his truck. Coming back to the house, I tripped on a root and hurt my ankle. So, brother, that’s pretty much it. I’ve been hidin’ out, waitin’ for them to get back so I could figure out a way to get my car back. What day is it anyway?”
“Friday.”
“Oh, my lord! I’ve been out here three days!”
“You said Katz had a wreck. Is she dead?”
“No, but it’s bizarre that she shows up here in the first place. Nobody knew I was coming out here, so if she was looking for me, how would she have known?”
Stevie started to get out of the truck, but Barbie gripped his arm. “Don’t go out there without a gun. There’s a freakin’ crazy man who lives in the woods. He’ll shoot you dead.”
“You’re out of your mind.”
“After Katz had her wreck, he pried her out of the vehicle and took her—God knows where. He’s a huge man, built like the Hulk. His face is horrible. It’s all scarred up and he doesn’t have an eye. Katz showed up, goes inside, then next thing I know—”
“You’re not makin’ any sense. How can she show up when the Hulk has her?”
“Dang it! This was right before the accident,” she said, frustrated. “Katz went inside Leonard’s house for a few minutes. I heard a gunshot. Then she runs out and gets in her car. Jimmy races from the backyard, jumps in his piece of crap truck, and chases her. Now I’m gettin’ tired of tellin’ this story, so give me your dang cell phone so we can call this in, but first let’s get the hell out of here. We can’t get a signal here.”
Stevie got out of the truck and reached behind his seat. He grabbed a flashlight and a gun. “Goin’ to the house. Got to git something. You wait here.”
“No, get back here, you dumbass. That nut case will shoot us if we don’t get out of here.”
Chapter Ten
Katherine opened her eyes and saw Abby the Abyssinian sitting beside her. She had a busy ball clenched in her jaw and dropped it on the bed. “Chirp,” the cat cried, then said in English, “I know something about your great aunt.”
Katherine closed her eyes. When she opened them again, Abby was gone. “I’m going insane,” she said. She lapsed into another dream.
The estate attorney, Mark Dunn, was helping her great aunt Orvenia get into his green Honda. Mark said, “We’ve got to get a move on if we’re going to make it to Wisconsin. The breeder said there was some kind of Taste of Chicago festival going on, and the traffic may be horrendous. That might delay us, so I figure if we leave now, we can avoid the rush.”
“You just jinxed it,” Orvenia said in a croaky voice. The elderly woman smiled and climbed onto the passenger seat.
Katherine struggled to wake up. “But I say that! Why would my great aunt say the same thing I’d say? I learned that from Colleen, and she’s from Ireland, not from Indiana.” She nodded off again.
Mark fired up the engine and peeled out onto Lincoln Street. “You look very dapper today,” he said.
“Thank you! I buy my clothes online now. Beats having my chauffeur drive me into the city.”
Nuts, Katherine thought. My great aunt wasn’t up on technology. The only thing she had that was modern was the small flat screen TV in the atrium. She didn’t even own a computer.
“So, Miss Orvenia,” Mark said affectionately. “How did you find out about this breeder? And why an Abyssinian?”
“I saw this picture of a ruddy Abyssinian in a magazine. I read the advertisement for the breeder in Wisconsin and gave her a call. These cats seem so exotic to me. I’ve had Siamese all my life, but . . .”
Wait a minute? Katherine asked. Did she just say Siamese?
“I thought the kitten was an Abyssinian?” Mark asked, bewildered.
“Yes, of course. An Aby. Why on earth would I say Siamese when I’ve been talking about an Abyssinian?” Orvenia commented in an exasperated tone.
Mark drove in silence. He knew Orvenia’s quick temper and ugly mood swings. He’d just keep on driving until she spoke again, then he’d answer.
After a few minutes, Orvenia said, “I want to change my will.”
“Sure, you can do that,” Mark answered in a professional voice, but thought, ‘here we go again.’ Orvenia had already changed her will many times, but maybe the thirteenth time’s the charm. More work, he thought. I bill by the hour.
“I haven’t heard from my Brooklyn relatives in a very long time. We didn’t part on good terms. Everyone has died now, leaving only a great niece. Her name is Katherine. She works in Manhattan. Very bright girl. Works with computers.”
“You’ve never mentioned a great niece before,” Mark said curiously.
“Her mother named her daughter after me. My middle name is Katherine. Of course, you know that,” Orvenia said matter-of-factly, “You being my attorney and all.”
Katherine tried to turn in bed but couldn’t move. She said out loud, “But you didn’t know me. Mark found out about me through my social media page.”
“Okay, no problem. We’ll change your will,” he said.
Orvenia smiled. “I want her to inherit everything, including this dear Abyssinian kitten we’re picking up today. It means a lot to me. Erie people haven’t been kind. They’ve always thought I married dear William for his money. I want Katz to have it.”
Katherine forced herself to wake up. She was dizzy. She wanted another drink of water, but the man was gone. She heard a gun blast, then more shots. Oh, my God, I’ve got to get out of here.
Chapter Eleven
Barbie drank more water and worried about Stevie going to the house. What should she do if she heard gun shots? Run? Limp to the house and try and help him? He had to be involved in drug dealing again, or why else would he come to Leonard’s house? She knew Leonard got busted for marijuana once or twice, but thought he was clean now. This alternative medicine route was right up his alley, because several years ago he worked at the Erie Drug Store as a pharmacist.
B
arbie sighed. Leonard’s always been so sweet to me, she thought. He knew how sensitive I was about my weight, so he made me diet shakes. But why was he so rough with me the last time I saw him? He’s never done that before. Where did Jimmy take Leonard after he stabbed him? And why did the idiot bring him back? To murder him? But the Hulk was firing shots, too, or was that after Katz ran out of the house? It’s just too confusing.
What a family I was born into, she reflected sadly. Stevie’s starting a new business, but dear old Dad still has him tied to his business. When Jimmy stole my car and left with Leonard, they were empty-handed. When they came back, Jimmy was carrying a bag full of something. Leonard got out and seemed to be okay. I guess the wound wasn’t as bad as I thought.
Barbie hadn’t waited for the two to come into the house. She limped back to the closet, where she waited until they went to sleep, then she left the house by the back door. Behind the house were several old sheds. She had chosen the one with the most junk, more things to hide behind.
Now, as she sat in Stevie’s truck back at Townsend’s house, the loud report of a rifle shot broke the silence. Barbie screamed and put her head down. She knelt down on the floorboard. The driver’s side door opened and she looked up, expecting to see Stevie. Instead, it was the man with the disfigured face. He grunted something and motioned her to get out of the truck.
“I’m not gettin’ out of this freakin’ truck,” she yelled. “Get outta here!”
“Hey, Buddy,” Stevie yelled from up the road. “It’s Stevie Sanders. I came to git my stuff. We’re fixin to leave.”
The man slammed the door and walked back into the woods.
Barbie shouted out the open truck window, “You know that man? What the hell!”
Stevie put several items in his diamond plate steel toolbox and hopped in. “He’s some old geezer Leonard takes care of. Harmless, if he knows ya, but meaner than a snake if he doesn’t.”
“Harmless, you say? He’s the one who pulled Katz out of the wreck. Call him back. We need to find her.”
A loud clap of thunder rang through the woods. A bolt of lightning lit up the night sky and struck one of the nearby trees. The acrid smell of ozone permeated the air. Stevie shouted out his window. “Hey, Buddy, come back. I need to talk to ya.” He yelled several more times, but the man didn’t return.
Hail started hitting the truck: At first, small pellets the size of peas, then bigger hailstones. Stevie cursed, “Damn, not on my new truck! Hey, Barbie, I don’t like the looks of this. Could be a tornado. Come on, we’re goin’ to Leonard’s house.”
“But I can hardly walk,” she protested. “What if one of those hailstones hits us in the head?”
Stevie got out of the driver’s side, pulled out a hooded jacket, and hurriedly put it on. He rushed over to Barbie. Opening the door, he said, “I’ll carry you. Step down on the running board and I’ll take it from there.” Barbie did what she was told. Stevie leaned in, picked her up, and threw her over his shoulder. He began walking to the house. “You weigh a ton,” he complained.
“Oh, really? You should have lifted me last Tuesday. I’ve lost a million pounds since then.”
“Okay, shut up. Gotta concentrate on not droppin’ you.”
Stevie stepped around the tail end of the wrecked Subaru and nearly lost his footing, when he tripped over a piece from the wreckage—the rearview mirror. “Damn, about dropped you there.”
“Hurry up. The hail is getting bigger. I just got hit by one,” Barbie whined.
“I’m tryin’. I can see the porch light. Just a few.”
When they got to the front porch, Stevie set Barbie down. The door was ajar, so he opened the screen door, stepped in, and flipped the inside light switch. Barbie limped in behind him. The wind slammed against the southwest side of the house, making the original glass windows rattle precariously in their frames.
Stevie found a flashlight. “Look, the power’s goin’ out any second. We’ve got to git down to the cellar.”
“I am not goin’ down there,” Barbie said adamantly, easing into a chair.
“Hail usually comes before a twister, so . . .”
A large branch fell against the house. He yanked his sister out of the chair and threw her over his shoulder again. Holding the flashlight in his teeth, he opened the cellar door and slowly descended the stairs. Barbie collapsed against him.
“Did you faint?” he asked, cautiously taking one step at a time.
“No, I’m holdin’ my breath. It really stinks down here.”
“Just old house smell.” He set her down and shone his light around the room. In the corner were two wood crates, so he picked them up and moved them to the center of the room. “Sit on one of these until the storm breaks.” He walked back up the steps and turned on the light; a naked incandescent bulb shone dimly.
“You didn’t come back here to get some tools,” Barbie said in an accusing tone. “What was in your hand when you came back?”
Something heavy crashed into the house and the lights went out. Barbie screamed.
Chapter Twelve
Katherine woke and tried to sit up on the bed. The pain in her ribs was too intense, so she lay back down. What’s that sound? Digging? Someone was digging frantically in the closet—excavating. The sound seemed to go on forever. Scratch! Scratch! She heard Siamese mutterings nearby.
“I think it’s covered,” she said in the direction of the litterbox.
A brilliant flash of lightning lit up the room. A heavy wind gust slammed into the log cabin. The metal roof made a warping sound. Katherine could hear the front door opening and banging shut. “Oh, no. The door’s open. My cats,” she said aloud.
Abra soared off the moose head and landed next to her. “Raw,” she cried sweetly in Katherine’s ear.
“Where’s Scout?” Katherine asked.
A loud clap of thunder spooked the cat and she shot off the bed, joining Scout in the closet.
“Scout,” Katherine called in a weak voice. Scout was busy. She was making tiny “waugh” sounds as she dug on the carpet.
“What are you doing?” Katherine asked, now fully awake. “Get out of there.”
Abra padded over to Scout and the two of them tugged at the carpet, pulling it away from the floor.
Katherine struggled to sit on the edge of the bed. She reached behind the small of her back and felt for the Glock. The waistband holster was there, but the gun was missing. “Dammit,” she said, frustrated. She remembered the last time she had it was before the accident. It must have fallen out the holster when I wrecked the Subaru, she thought.
Another flash of lightning revealed a bottle of water sitting on the dresser. “I need water,” she said to the cats. “If it kills me, I’m getting off this bed and grab it.” No sooner than she had one leg over, the man from the woods barged in. There was urgency in his step. The Siamese slinked to the back of the closet—safely out of view.
Katherine was no longer afraid of his disfigurement. She was more worried about the rifle he carried than the scars that lined his face. “Who are you?” she asked in a calm voice.
A large crow flew into the room and sat on the man’s shoulder. “Caw,” it said.
“My name is Katherine Kendall. My friends call me Katz.”
The man placed his rifle on the foot of the bed. He removed a small chalkboard from his windbreaker’s pocket. He also pulled out a piece of chalk and wrote: Help you.
“Thanks. I need to go to a hospital. Can you take me?”
The man wiped the board with his sleeve. No phone, he wrote. Protect you. Man coming back.
“The man who killed Mr. Townsend?”
He nodded.
“What happens now?”
Move you, he wrote.
“Where?” she asked, wincing at her pain.
Give you something for pain. The man removed a small ampoule and syringe from his shirt pocket.
“You’re not giving that to me,” Katherine objected. “I
just need some Tylenol. Hand me my purse.” Then she remembered her purse was in the Subaru.
The storm had grown in intensity. Hail began to hit the cabin, making loud crashing noises on the metal roof.
“We’ve got to go to an interior room,” she shouted over the wind.
“Caw,” the crow cried in alarm.
The man forcibly turned Katherine on her side and injected the needle into her hip.
Katherine screamed out in pain. “What did you just give me?”
The man gathered Katherine in his arms and took her to the closet where Scout and Abra had been digging. With one strong hand, he finished what the cats had started and ripped up the carpet panel to reveal a trap door, which he then lifted. He carried Katherine down some steps to a crawlspace, and carefully placed her on a blanket. Scout and Abra bolted down the steps and collapsed against Katherine’s side.
The man walked to the corner of the crawlspace, pulled a lantern flashlight out of a plastic tub, and placed it next to Katherine. In the dim light, Katherine thought she saw him attempt a smile, but the scars prevented him from smiling.
“Caw! Caw!” the crow cried loudly from the top of the steps. The bird flew down and landed nearby. The man grumbled something to the crow, which the bird didn’t seem to like. The crow started swaying rhythmically, flapping its wings. Scout hissed.
Exiting the crawlspace, the man tossed down a folded knife. It safely landed by Katherine’s left side. He positioned the trap door back in place and left. Katherine could hear his footsteps overhead, as he walked toward the front of the cabin.
As Katherine drifted off into a morphine-induced sleep, she heard a man’s voice shouting, “Hey, I just wanna talk to ya.” The man yelled something else, but she couldn’t understand his words. Then she heard two loud rifle shots.
Chapter Thirteen
Jake paced the floor of the Atlanta airport. Staring at the departure board, he muttered, “This can’t be good,” under his breath. “All flights to Indianapolis cancelled.” Heading over to a bar kiosk, he looked up at the wide-screen TV to monitor the local news. A middle-aged bartender came over and said, “What will it be?”
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