Alex was positive his kids weren’t still at Harry’s house, but finding the key had given him the idea of going over there and breaking in… just to have a look around. He drove to Elmwood Street and cruised slowly past the house. It certainly looked empty. The garage door was down, and there were no cars in the driveway. Most of the shades were drawn, and this morning’s newspaper was still lying at an angle on the front steps.
“Yeah, he ain’t home,” Alex whispered, but even if he was going to use the key now and go inside, he would first have to make sure Harry was at the hardware store. He knew he could use the phone booth at the corner store to call and find out, but instead he drove across town, over to the store on 30th Street. He circled the block twice, slowing down for each pass by the front of the store. He was hoping to catch a glimpse of Harry through the plate glass door, but the glaring reflection off the sunlit Street obscured everything. Feeling a steady rise of frustration, he pulled into the parking lot and stopped at the far end, angling the car so it was aimed straight at the storefront. He killed the engine and just sat there, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as he stared at the front door and considered what he should do next. Heat waves shimmered in the heavy air, making the asphalt look like it was flooded with running water.
Of course, the easiest thing to do would be to walk into the store and just take a casual look around; but he rarely—if ever—came by Harry’s store, and he certainly never bought anything from the cheap bastard! Although he wanted to make sure Harry was in the store before breaking into his house, he also didn’t want to be seen himself, so he decided against taking that route. No, he’d just as soon not have anyone see him here today, and a phone call might raise the same suspicions. His plans were still vague at this point, but if something happened later on he sure as hell didn’t want anyone to be able to draw even the slightest connection between him and… whatever.
Then again, he thought, it might be funny as hell to walk into the store and start yelling at Harry, pretending he was still royally pissed off about his kids being missing. That wouldn’t take much effort on his part although, in fact, Alex was more upset by the fact that Cindy and—no doubt—Harry had so far gotten away with it than he was that The kids were gone. Actually, over the last few weeks, for the first time in something like ten years, he was thoroughly enjoying the peaceful silence of his own home.
But why not just burst in there and pull a scene in front of everyone, employees and customers alike? He could threaten Harry and yell at him all he wanted, but he cautioned himself: he had to be careful not to hit him or start smashing things up. After all, there was no sense getting the cops involved. He still hadn’t informed the police that his kids had been kidnapped, and he certainly didn’t want to involve them at this late date. How would he explain that his children had been gone for two weeks before he reported the incident? But it would probably be a blast to go in there and get the other employees all riled up and let them see what an absolute asshole-shit of a boss they worked for.
As Alex thought about these things, time ticked away slowly. It was boiling hot out here in the sun-blasted car, and his thirst for a beer was getting much worse. After more than an hour he was seething with frustration and rage. His body was tense, and he continually shifted in the car seat because he wanted to get out and do something… anything!
But, he reminded himself, he didn’t have to rush into anything, either. All along he’d been taking his sweet time about things because he didn’t have to do any of the other things he was thinking about doing… at least not today.
What was the hurry?
Besides, it was smart to take his time and wait, if he waited long enough, something even better might present itself.
One thing for sure, though, it sure was a bitch being his own private detective. He wished to hell he had the resources to hire someone else to sit out here in the car and swelter, watching the store. And he would have been able to hire someone, too, he thought bitterly, if his fucking wife hadn’t scraped better than ten thousand dollars off him over the last year or so and given it to her sister… to her fucking sister!
“Yeah, Debbie,” he whispered as he wiped the wash of sweat from his forehead and stared intently at the storefront through the rippling heat waves. “1 hope to shit you’re roasting in hell for that one!” He snickered softly under his breath and added, “And I’ll try my damndest to make sure your sister joins you there r-e-a-l soon.”
He wasn’t sure which—if any—of the cars parked outside the store was Harry’s. Customers came and went, but one green Toyota remained parked at the side of the building. It might be Harry’s, Alex thought, or else one of the clerk’s. He tried but couldn’t remember what kind of car the asshole drove, so unless he went inside the store and checked or else called and asked for Harry, he couldn’t be sure. And after the scene he pulled at Harry’s house, he didn’t want to go over to the house and risk getting caught breaking in.
No, it might feel like he was sitting in an oven, but he had to take his time and make sure he didn’t fuck things up. He had to be clear and careful in his calculations. He wasn’t going to find Cindy and his kids—and get even with her!—unless he did.
“An ice-cold beer sure would go down smooth now,” he whispered in a dry, croaking voice.
He glanced at his watch and saw that it was already past four o’clock. He licked his lips and noticed for the first time the Pepsi vending machine outside the storefront. Opening the ashtray, he fished around until he found three quarters and a few nickels and dimes. Clenching them in his hand, he wondered if he should risk walking over there and getting himself something cold to drink. He tossed back and forth on the issue until he finally decided that it wasn’t worth it. His stomach was growling with hunger, anyway, so he started up the car, thinking there were plenty of places nearby where he could get something to eat. He could grab a quick supper, take a leak, and then come back in an hour or so to see what was going on.
After all, there was no sense hurrying.
He shifted the car into gear and was just about to pull out when a bright red Camaro, glimmering with reflections off the chrome, pulled into the parking lot. He saw Harry’s balding silhouette through the driver’s side window.
“Yeah, okay. Back from an early supper, huh, you lousy prick?” Alex whispered. He shrank down into the seat and turned to watch the driver.
Harry pulled up as close as he could to the store and stopped the car. A self-satisfied grin split his face as he stepped out of the car, pocketed his keys, and strutted purposely to the front door. Alex’s fists, still holding the coins, clenched with anger as he watched Harry swing the door open and step inside. As the door swung shut behind him, a glancing flash of sunlight reflected off the mirrored surface of the plate glass, stinging Alex’s eyes and leaving a trailing, white-hot afterimage.
“Okay, you rotten mother-fucker! … At least now I know where you are.”
He started up his car and, without pausing at the stop sign, darted out into the flow of traffic heading east. The trailing blast of a horn let him know that the driver behind him wasn’t pleased with his performance. He stuck his arm out the window and casually raised his middle finger over the car roof.
He still wasn’t sure what he thought he could accomplish, but he figured, at least for a little while, it was safe for him to drive out to Harry and Cindy’s house on Elmwood Street… just to have a little look around, he told himself.
2
Cindy couldn’t believe her luck, but in spite of how nervous she was and how badly she was stuttering, trying to explain who she was and where she was going and that she and “her boy” had already taken care of the flat tire, the state trooper never seemed to pick up that these were the two kidnapped kids from Nebraska she had in her car.
It was a miracle!
And Billy and Krissy—God love them!— didn’t say or do anything to give her away. Up until that moment, Cindy had never been absolutely c
ertain that the kids even wanted to be with her; but with a state trooper right there, this was their chance to say or do something if they wanted to get away from her. Throughout the entire interaction, Cindy was inwardly cringing, just waiting to hear one of them, probably Krissy, because she seemed the most unhappy, start whining and say, “Hey, mister! This isn’t my mommy! My mommy’s dead, and this lady’s our aunt who stole us away from our daddy! But I wanna go home! I wanna see my daddy!”
But they didn’t.
They went right along with the story she concocted on the spot—that they were from Nebraska, obviously enough from the license plates on her car, and had driven to Maine to spend a few weeks with their uncle, who lived in Westbrook. She chose Westbrook because that was the last town or city name she remembered seeing on the exit sign. A couple of times, Billy nodded agreement—perhaps a bit too enthusiastically, Cindy thought—while Krissy remained silent, rooted to the spot on the roadside where she had been told to stand.
After making sure the lug nuts had been put on tightly, the state trooper replaced the flat tire and the jack back in the trunk, and got back into his cruiser. With his blue lights still strobing like lightning, he waited—and watched—while Cindy loaded the kids into the back seat, got them seat-belted, started up her car, and pulled back onto the turnpike as soon as she saw a break in the traffic. She was gnawing viciously at her lower lip as she drove away, gradually picking up speed. Try as she might, though, she couldn’t stop herself from glancing at the rearview mirror to watch the state trooper as he followed along behind them.
Is he just biding his time? Maybe he’s radioing up ahead to the state police barracks, asking them to run down the numbers on her Nebraska license plate! Or maybe he already knows who she is, and is just following along behind to keep tabs on her until other units get in place to cut her off!
Up ahead, Cindy saw the sign for Exit 8—Portland and Westbrook. Remembering her story, she snapped on her blinker and slowed down for the turn. The state trooper suddenly darted out into the passing lane. For a single, shimmering instant, Cindy thought she was about to see his blue flashers come on again, but then he tooted his horn a few times and waved to her before zipping up the interstate.
Relief flooded Cindy’s body as she eased her car around the long, curving turn, heading toward the toll booth.
“Boy, oh boy, that was a close one, huh?” Billy said.
He was smiling as he leaned forward with both arms over the front seat. He craned his neck to watch the police cruiser up the road.
“Umm, yeah,” was all Cindy managed to say, but at that moment, she knew—absolutely—that Billy was on her side. Maybe it was something as simple as letting him take charge of changing the tire that had swung him around… or maybe it was that he knew they were close to their destination. Whatever it was, he seemed to have transformed into a different kid, and she was glad. At least a small amount of the pressure bearing down on her seemed to have lifted.
What or how Krissy was feeling was still anybody’s guess, but as Cindy slowed down for the toll booth and dug into her purse for some money, she promised herself that, as soon as they were settled—anywhere—she would make a special effort to get Krissy to open up to her. That was the only way they would ever going to build trust and love… if, given their situation, that was even possible.
3
“Hi, honey, it’s me. Well, we finally got here late today, but—uh, we haven’t gone out to the lake yet ’cause of a—well, because we had a slight change of plans, I guess. I miss you, but we—uh, we’re doing okay. I guess—getting by, anyway. We had a bit of a problem yesterday, but it was nothing too serious. I’ll tell you all about it next time we talk, okay? Wish you were home; I hate talking to this thing. Anyway, I—umm, well, I’ll see yah. Take care. Bye. Love you!”
The combination telephone/ answering machine gave three quick beeps; then the tape rewound for a few seconds and clicked off.
With his chin resting on the palm of his hand, Alex just stood there in Harry Toland’s kitchen and stared at the blinking green light that indicated the answering machine was still on.
“Yeah, sure!” he said. “You’re there!… but where?”
His low, measured voice gradually ascended as a wave of heat flushed his face. He clenched his fists tightly, but couldn’t stop himself from trembling with rage at just hearing that bitch Cindy’s voice.
“Tell me where the fuck you are!”
He glared at the message machine but, as much as he wanted to smash the fucking thing to bits he held himself back, knowing that it would be a mistake. The point of breaking into Harry’s house hadn’t been to trash the place, but to find out whatever there was to find out. After going quickly through all the rooms, upstairs and down, especially checking through Cindy’s bureau and closet, he hadn’t found a single goddamned thing of interest. It was getting late, and he had been just about ready to leave when he had noticed the blinking light on the answering machine and had pressed the play button.
At least he had found something!
But the information, although interesting, just wasn’t enough. Certainly it wasn’t anything he could use.
They were there, wherever the hell there was, and she had plans to go to the lake, but that could be any place in the fucking United States… or Canada, for that matter, if she had the balls to cross the border with two kidnapped kids. The fact that it had taken her two weeks to get there, or at least in the vicinity of the lake, indicated that she must have driven a great distance from Nebraska, so even if he had involved the police by now, Alex realized that she and the kids were too far away for him to do anything right away.
He couldn’t do a goddamned thing until he knew where the fuck they were!
He hit the play button again and listened carefully to the message a second time, but his frustration only sharpened when he didn’t glean a single new piece of information.
“The lake… the lake… the fucking goddamned lake!” he muttered as he paced back and forth across the kitchen floor, all the while smacking his fist into his open hand. He stopped, turned and lashed out suddenly with his foot, kicking over one of the kitchen chairs. It sounded like something on the chair cracked when it hit the floor.
“Where the fucking hell is the lake?” he shouted, shaking his fists in front of his face.
This was a significant but—at least so far—absolutely useless piece of information; and it certainly wasn’t going to help him decide what to do next or even where to start looking. It was getting on toward supper time, and he considered waiting here at the house until Harry got home so he could confront him with this new tidbit of information. It might be fun just to see the expression on his face when he came through the door after a hard day’s work and saw Alex, sitting there at the kitchen table, waiting to greet him.,
Or maybe he should do a little more than that.
Maybe he should have a knife—no, a gun in hand before he played the message for Harry; then he could put the barrel to Harry’s head and force the squirmy little bastard to tell him what fucking lake his wife was taking his kids to. His fucking kids, for Christ’s sake!
Jesus, wouldn’t that be fun, watching the poor bastard sweat?
But it would also be dangerous and futile.
Wherever Cindy had taken the kids, Harry could easily get word to her before he could get to them… that was, unless he had some way of stopping Harry.
“Yeah,” Alex whispered, smiling as an ugly thought rose in his mind. Then he laughed out loud and rubbed his hands vigorously together. “Yeah, maybe I should just kill the douche-bag and be rid of him once and for all!”
It might even be fun, Alex thought, to make the bastard pay for the agony he’s putting me through.
But then again, killing Harry would be something that would be difficult—if not impossible—to get away with. In fact, it would probably be a big mistake even to let Harry know that he’d been in the house and had heard Cindy’s
phone message. At least he had something! And anyway, he had the key to the house; he could get in here whenever the fuck he felt like it.
So why do anything rash?
The bottom line was, Harry didn’t have the kids; Cindy did. She was the one he had to find, and if anyone was going to suffer, it was going to be her.
He picked up the fallen chair and pushed it back against the table, then made sure the answering machine was as it had been before he had entered the kitchen. Just as he was turning toward the back door to leave, though, he heard a noise from outside. Footsteps, coming up the front walkway.
“Oh, fuck!” he said under his breath as, crouching low, he moved to the kitchen door and peeked around the edge of the doorjamb down the hallway toward the front door. The security chain was off. Alex’s body went rigid as he listened to the approaching footsteps, sounding louder as they came up the walkway.
Shit, is Harry home already? he thought, feeling pissed at himself.
Had he been so preoccupied, wondering about where Cindy was, that he hadn’t even noticed if a car had pulled into the driveway? He turned and tried to see out into the driveway but couldn’t from where he was standing. His legs tensed as he prepared to run out the back door the instant the front door started to open.
The heavy clump of feet sounded on the steps as a distorted shadow rippled across the closed, lacy curtain. Alex shied back, his eyes riveted to the door as he waited, expecting at any second to hear the key turn in the lock and see the doorknob begin to turn. Then the mail slot lifted open, and a handful of envelopes showered onto the floor. With an ear-grating clang, the slot dropped shut as the shadow shifted silently away.
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