by R M Wild
Dare I go down? Was Kendall watching?
“You can’t sit on the couch all day,” I whispered to myself. “You need an escape plan.”
I opened the door. It led to a dark stairwell. Unlike the rest of the cabin, the lights did not sense my presence and turn on by themselves.
I felt the wall for a switch, but couldn’t find one. Thinking my eyes would adjust, I descended the stairs anyway. They were made of wood, unfinished, but didn’t creak. When I got to the bottom, the only source of light was coming from the window for the walkup exit on the far side, the natural light casting the unfinished basement in hard, gray shadows.
Along the cinderblock walls, there were work benches. Tools. Pliers. Saws. A vice grip. Mounted to the far wall, was a large, flat egg, a thick white tube running to the ceiling. It must have been the backup battery for the house.
And sitting near the exit, was a long, curved shape.
An aluminum canoe.
Those painters must have returned it yesterday.
But why had they taken it down to the dock in the first place? What was hiding in the mist?
Outside, the morning sun had taken refuge behind the newly-formed strips of gray hovering in the sky. The last thing I needed was more rain and thus more time without electricity.
I glanced at the exterior cameras mounted beneath the gutters and then smiled and waved and crossed the field and headed down to the dock. There was no point in hiding my intentions. Doing so would just make Kendall more suspicious.
Down at the dock, a slight wind blew across the lake and the mist glided over the surface. I ventured down to the last plank and hung my toes off the end. Either I was still hungover, or the whole structure seemed to wobble.
I stood there, trying not to fall in, and leaned forward and squinted into the drifting fog.
What had those painters been doing with that canoe?
The breeze came again and then I saw it. A brief glimpse. In the parting fog, about a hundred yards away, in the middle of the lake, sat a hard square.
It was a tiny island maybe. A shack.
But as soon as I had seen the structure, it was gone again, swallowed by the gloom.
A sound. I turned around.
A vehicle was coming down the driveway. Kendall hadn’t gone to the law firm. He must have been somewhere close by, must have been watching the cameras the whole time.
I remembered what he had said about avoiding the lake. Suddenly, one thing was crystal clear: Kendall didn’t want me anywhere near that island shack.
39
Frantic, I looked left, then right. There was nothing but field, no escape to the woods for at least a hundred yards in either direction. The cabin was another hundred yards away, but up the hill. There was no way I could run back in time.
I was entirely exposed. Nowhere to hide.
I stood, helpless, my heart banging. Should I stay down here and try to make it to the island before Kendall came down the hill and stopped me? Or dare I go back to the house and hope there’d be another opportunity?
What if he never left the house again? What if he babysat me all day long? What if he knew I was suspicious and he tied me up like Chrissy?
I looked down at the water. Knowing Maine, it was probably colder than an ice bath. I was also on my last clean outfit. There were no laundry rooms in the cabin and I doubted that Kendall would be quick to bring me new clothes if I tried to escape.
I gathered my courage, about to step off the dock, my foot hovering over the water, when I glanced back at the driveway.
The Mercedes had parked. Kendall had climbed out of the car and was holding a black briefcase.
I pulled my foot back and stood on both legs. I would tell him I was out for a stroll, nothing more. If he didn’t believe me—then it would only confirm my suspicions about him.
I hiked back up the hill.
Kendall thumbed his phone to open the front door. “Are you okay?”
I smiled. “Sure. Fine. No problems.”
“What were you doing down there?”
“Nothing. Just walking. I needed fresh air.”
“The dock isn’t safe. I told you that.”
“What are you doing back so early?”
“I told you I had to get some paperwork,” he said and patted the briefcase. “Which I did.”
“I thought you were going to work at the office.”
“I said I had paperwork to do. And I do. I brought it back. You seem disappointed to see me.”
A drop landed on my head. I looked up. The clouds had returned.
“No. Just surprised,” I said. “Did you get my phone charger?”
He gave me a big fake smile. “Let’s go inside, shall we? The rain is coming back.”
Kendall set his briefcase down on the kitchen table and popped open the golden latches. The action was as smooth as it was casual.
“Have a seat, Rosemary.”
I sat on the arm of the couch.
“Not over there, here,” he said and pulled the wood chair out from the table for me.
Wary, I shuffled over to the table. I had no desire to be this close to him.
He pulled a stack of documents from his briefcase, stood them against the table to level the edges that had shifted in transit, and once satisfied that they all lined up and nice and square, set them down in front of me.
“What is all this?”
“I told you. Paperwork. Legal stuff. Most of it, you wouldn’t find interesting.”
“Don’t patronize me. What is it?”
“Please. Sit. You’re making me nervous.”
I was making him nervous? Did he not know how it felt to be forced to sit this close to a sexual assaulter?
“I’d rather stand.”
“Sit, goddammit.”
Feeling small, I slid into the chair and put my hands in my lap, afraid to move.
“That’s better,” Kendall said. “Please, I don’t want any emotions to cloud this discussion. It’s purely business. Whatever you think of me, good or bad, should be immaterial to the outcome. I’d like to have a frank discussion about your inn.”
“My inn?”
“Yes. Your business has fallen down a snake hole and the dirt is sliding in. You haven’t had customers for days.”
“You don’t know that. Eldritch is in charge. You haven’t let me check in. For all I know, we’ve had twenty guests in the time I’ve been gone.”
“I did check in. I stopped by the place this morning. Eldritch didn’t even answer the door. I think it’s safe to say that the inn is costing you more than it’s making. Would you agree?”
“What is your point? Every business loses money in the beginning.”
“I think you did an admirable job with the place after Phyllis Martin jumped ship,” he said. “You truly did. You sunk, what? Ten thousand into renovations?”
“How do you know that?”
“You claimed the write-off on your taxes.”
“How did you—I didn’t—”
“I’m guessing you burned the last of your savings from NYCPS. Yes?”
“You little—”
“Relax. There’s nothing shady here. There’s a copy of your tax return down at the office.”
It was true. After the Dark Haven lighthouse had gone up in flames, I had asked my foster father for a good place to keep my records. He had said they’d be safe in his office.
“I didn’t give you permission to—”
“No one wants to go to your inn,” Kendall said bluntly. “Especially after that mess on social media. You have to admit, the place is a red hole.”
“A red hole?”
“Yes. It’s worse than a black hole, because you are most certainly not in the black.”
“What are you getting at, Kyle?”
“I represent a wealthy client—”
I stood abruptly. “Oh for God’s sake. That’s what this is all about, isn’t it?”
“Sit down. Let
me finish—”
Meekly, I sat again. My hands were shaking. “You’re the private entity, aren’t you? This is what you did to the Gold Bug Tavern. You pushed Peter Hardgrave out, didn’t you?”
Kendall shook his head as if he were tired of being maligned. “I am not the private entity. Dark Haven already made a bid for your property. But thanks to Phyllis Martin’s…obfuscations…they weren’t successful. No, this transaction is a bit more…direct.”
“Who is the private entity?”
“The same man who owns this cabin.”
“He tried to kill me.”
“I promise you, you’re not going to get a better deal. Not from anyone. Not ever.”
“Why does he want my inn so badly? It’s just an old house.”
“That’s his business, not mine.”
I thought about Eldritch. He was happy telling his stories at my inn. I was an employer. I was my own boss. I ran things the way I wanted and I was free to experiment with new tactics. I could never go back to slaving for someone else.
“I’m not interested in selling,” I said. “That’s final.”
“You haven’t even heard the offer yet.”
“I don’t need to. Red and Breakfast is not for sale.”
“Seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars,” Kendall said. “All cash.”
I swallowed hard. I stared at the paperwork.
“That offer is well above market value. The average house in Dark Haven goes for a little over two hundred thousand dollars. You won’t see this kind of appreciation for at least another decade, provided the town itself doesn’t go bankrupt—and let me tell you, from what I’ve seen of their ledgers, their coffers are sucking air at the bottom of the hold. I give Dark Haven fifteen years at best before the entire economy collapses and the place becomes a ghost town.”
“Maybe their solvency problems are because the town keeps seizing property and driving people out of business. You ever think of that?”
“Maybe,” Kendall said. “But if you play your cards right and accept my offer, the township’s folly will only sweeten the deal for you.”
I stared at the table. My reflection in the surface was cut in half by the stack of papers.
“Things were really coming together at the inn,” I said quietly.
“Yes, they were. Until they fell apart.”
“I can’t sign these. No matter the figure. I like the place. I’m good at managing it.”
“You and I must have different definitions of good.”
“I don’t care if I lose money. Mortgages lose money for thirty years. I need to live someplace, don’t I? So I might as well try to make a few bucks while I’m at it. How many people have that option?”
Kendall looked down at his briefcase. He fiddled with one of the golden latches, clicking it open and then closed. Then he adjusted his tie, looked up, and flashed me a great big smile.
“I didn’t want it to come to this, I really didn’t, but let’s put it this way, Rosie. You’re not leaving this cabin until you sign the goddamn papers.”
40
My eyebrows narrowed. I looked up from my reflection in the counter. “What did you say?”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have used such coarse language. But I believe my message was clear.”
“I’m a hostage now?”
“Not exactly—”
“I am. You’re holding me hostage!”
“Settle down.”
“I want you to take me back to Dark Haven. NOW.”
“Relax, Rosie. Like I said, do not let your emotions cloud your judgment on this matter. You need a new life, one where Roman Caesar can’t find you, one where the cops can’t arrest you. Take my offer and go some place where you won’t get hurt. Get out of Dark Haven. Disappear. Go far away. Think of this as a self-imposed witness protection program. I’ve been wracking my brain about the best way to help you and this is the best I could come up with. My client was reluctant to go this high, but he relented. I pushed the value as high as I possibly could. For you. If you go back to Dark Haven, you will never be safe. Trust me on that.”
“I’ll find Caesar myself if I have to.”
“This runs far deeper than Caesar. You have to trust me on this. If you stay in Dark Haven, your life will be in danger. Always.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“No, I am not. I am pointing out the facts. I am trying to save you. I worked hard to negotiate this deal. My client wanted to pay far less.”
My fingers contracted into a fist. “Who is the blasted client, Kyle?”
“I can’t tell you. Confidentiality.”
“Then at least confirm one thing. Is this the same person who convinced Phyllis Martin to kidnap me?”
Kendall glanced up at the motion sensor in the corner. It watched us like a large red eye, like HAL or the eye of Polyphemus.
“Yes,” he said quietly.
“Is it the same person who sent me a postcard at the hospital when I was keeping watch over Stanley?”
“Most likely.”
I got up and went to the counter. The empty bottles of Red Rum were still sitting there. I reached for one, touched the neck of the bottle. I remembered seeing the bottle break in my drunken dream. Maybe I was supposed to grab it and smash it over Kendall’s head. Maybe I was supposed to snatch his keys and make a run for the Mercedes.
My fingers curled around the neck of the bottle.
“I’ve got some more rum in the car if you want to celebrate,” he said.
“Celebrate what?”
“Resolution.”
My fingers tightened. Then I remembered the remote start on his vehicle. I would need the password to his phone to get the car running. Unless…unless I grabbed the tools downstairs. I could drill the ignition, insert a screwdriver—
Unsatisfied with the ragged edges, Kendall straightened the stack of papers against the table again and then slid them carefully into his briefcase and latched it shut.
“It looks like you need some time. Why don’t you take a little bit to think it over?”
I lifted the bottle off the counter. “Even if I make the deal, I can’t go anywhere without a vehicle.”
“I’ve been authorized to use some of my client’s cash to buy you a car. A brand new car. You can leave straight from here.”
I closed my eyes and shook my head, imagining my flight to the desert or Alaska or Mexico. “I need to say goodbye. To Eldritch. To my foster father.”
“Sorry, too dangerous,” he said.
I tilted the bottle toward me and watched the red liquid clinging to the inside of the cap run slowly down the neck and disappear behind the label.
“Mull it over,” Kendall said.
I released my grip on the bottle. “I don’t need to. You’re right. I will sign.”
He turned around, his eyes brightened. “You will?”
“Yes. Anything to get out of here. Away from you.”
“Don’t be like that.”
“I thought you were my friend.”
“I am. I’ve worked hard to put this deal together.”
“You’re extorting me.”
“I’m not. I wish you could see it from both sides,” he said. “I tried to treat you well and came up with a solution much better than my client was inclined to do.”
“Let’s just get this over with. Where do I sign?”
“I don’t want there to be any bad blood between us. I like you, Rosie. I always have.”
“Too late.”
Frowning, he returned to the table and opened his briefcase again. He put the papers in front of my chair and laid a pen on top. Then he took a small video camera from his briefcase and placed it on the far side of the table.
“What’s that for?”
“It’s the same one I used to film Matt’s funeral.”
“So what? Is this supposed to be my funeral?”
He laughed. “No. It’s for insurance. This is our official
settlement. Sometimes we videotape the signings for witnesses who can’t be present. It helps validate their signature in case…problems arise,” Kendall said. He reached across the table and pulled three sheets off the stack of documents. “I need you to sign the top one, and initial the next three.”
“You’re not going to read them to me?”
“I thought you were a very good reader.”
“I am, but this stuff might as well be in a different language.”
“It’s an agreement of sale. Standard contract. All the boiler plate stuff. My client will pay the closing costs and the deed transfer and all the other details. All you have to do is sign.”
I glanced at the camera, slid a hand in my pocket, and turned on my phone, hoping I had a little bit of juice left. I needed some insurance of my own, insurance that this creep was extorting me. I felt for the edge of the screen, then approximated the appropriate distance for the camera app and pressed the screen with my thumb. It wouldn’t be able to record any video, but at least I’d have audio—audio I could take to the police to clear my name.
“I haven’t bought any houses before, but I’m assuming there’s usually an exchange of funds,” I said.
“A wire transfer, yes,” Kendall said. “But this is different. No mortgage, all cash.”
“Where’s the money?”
“Sign the papers and I’ll bring it to you.”
“And if I don’t?”
“We already discussed that.”
“I changed my mind. No deal unless I see the money. I want to count it. I also want a brand new car sitting in that driveway.”
“I don’t have the money here.”
“Then get it.”
“I can’t just get that kind of money. It will take a few days. There are withdrawal limits.”
I crossed my arms. “Do you think I’m stupid? Do you think I’m going to sign without seeing the money? Those are my conditions. No money, no deal.”
Kendall put up his hands in defeat and looked at me hard. “You would have made a good lawyer, Rosie. Even back in high school, you were a force to be reckoned with.”