by Diane Hester
‘Wait here,’ she said and climbed out again, then froze at the silence. The man had stopped his yelling. Did that mean he was on the move? Had he found his dead friend? Was he coming for them?
In the clearing just ahead she spotted the Chevy. Their last chance gone. The tyres were slashed.
Gunshots resounded from the rear of the house. She leapt inside and pressed back against the garage wall.
Breathless, quaking, she felt the paralysis taking hold, stripping her reason, shutting her down. All at once she knew it was over. The monsters were here. Fish Hook. Puppet. Beret. Scarecrow. She could see their faces, their sneers, their scars –
Small arms clamped around her waist. With a gasp she looked down. Jesse stared up at her, his wide frightened eyes drawing her into a place of stillness and sudden clarity. With every second she stared at his face her courage returned. She pressed a trembling hand to his cheek. No, the monsters hadn’t won yet!
Hugging him close, she turned for the door, glanced at the sky – twilight streaking the clouds with gold – then into the woods. They hadn’t a chance against five armed men and they weren’t going anywhere in either vehicle. But in another hour it would be fully dark.
And no one knew these forests better than she.
Chapter 37
Chase pulled his Land Rover to the side of the quiet suburban street and shut off the engine. He sat staring out at the green shingled, two-storey Queen Anne with its manicured shrubs and cottage garden. A blue sedan was parked in the driveway. He climbed from the car and started up the path.
On the open front porch he rang the bell. After a moment a shadow appeared behind the glass panel that flanked the door.
‘Mrs O’Neil? It’s Doctor Hadley. I called this morning regarding Shyler. I still haven’t been able to locate her. I wonder if I could ask you a few more questions.’
The shadow lingered but the door didn’t open.
‘I’m concerned about her, Mrs O’Neil. It’s important I find her.’
The door cracked an inch. ‘I thought you said there was nothing seriously wrong with her.’
‘There’s nothing seriously wrong with her physically, but I’m worried . . . Look, do you think I could come inside and talk to you? It’s not the sort of thing –’
The door opened wider and a woman’s face appeared, thin and hard-featured. Chase could barely see the resemblance.
‘I told you I can’t help you. I haven’t spoken to my daughter in years.’
‘That’s okay. At this stage all I want to do is find her. I know she’s living in the Deadwater area, I just don’t know where.’
The woman stared back as though debating. ‘The cabin.’
‘Yes, someone said something about a cabin, but they didn’t –’
‘It’s on the north side of town, off one of the old logging tracks. We used to vacation there when Shyler was young. She and her father built the place and when he died he left it to her.’
‘Mrs O’Neil, I’m new to Deadwater. It would be a tremendous help to me if you could draw me a rough map to find the place.’
More debating. ‘All right, come in.’
A flight of stairs leading to the second floor lined one side of a wide hallway. As she moved to the desk beside the door, Chase saw the picture frames covering the walls.
‘I really appreciate this,’ he said, stepping closer to scan the photos. Most were of the same young girl at various ages. For someone who claimed not to care about her daughter, Patricia O’Neil kept a lot of mementos.
‘These pictures are all of Shyler growing up?’ He pretended not to notice the completed map she was holding out to him.
‘Yes.’
‘She’s an only child?’
‘That’s right.’
He leaned to take in a particular shot, more to buy time than anything else. How could he get this woman to open up?
She lowered her hand. ‘Go ahead and ask your questions, Doctor. It’s clear I won’t get rid of you until you do.’
Where to begin? How did he ask about an experience that might have destroyed a young woman’s life? Perhaps by approaching the subject indirectly.
‘I see Shyler used to play the piano.’
‘Yes. She was very talented.’
‘Is that so?’
‘By age six she was playing the Bach Inventions. Mozart, Chopin and Brahms by high school. She could have gone to any music school in the country. I would know, I was her teacher.’
The pride in her voice was unmistakable. ‘Could have? So it didn’t turn out that way?’
‘Shyler was talented at a good many things. She could have done anything she wanted with her life. Gone to any college, pursued any number of challenging careers. Instead she fell pregnant and married the father.’
His head snapped towards her. ‘Shyler’s married?’
‘They’ve since divorced.’
He waited but she didn’t elaborate. She seemed to be struggling to meet his gaze. ‘Was that when you stopped having anything to do with her? When she got married?’
She looked away. It was answer enough.
‘How did your husband feel about it?’
‘He agreed with me. We refused to see them, even after the baby was born. It wasn’t until –’
‘Until?’
‘When the boy turned five, Robert, my husband, came to me and confessed he had contacted Shyler. It was the one and only time he ever disregarded my feelings on the issue. On any issue, for that matter.’
‘What changed his mind?’
‘He said he’d been having . . .’ She swallowed with effort. ‘That he had some health problems and wanted to get to know his grandson before . . .’
Chase could fill in the blanks from there. ‘Your husband was dying.’
‘I didn’t know it at the time but, yes.’
She drew herself up and fixed her attention on one of the photos. ‘Shyler had always been close to her father. The two of them were much alike – similar natures, similar interests. When Robert told me he wanted Shyler back in our lives . . .’ She closed her eyes. ‘We fought about it. A terrible argument. And we never fought normally. If I’d only known . . . If he’d only told me . . .’ She covered her mouth.
‘Mrs O’Neil?’
‘Robert collapsed. A heart attack. That was the health problem he’d been keeping from me.’
‘So your husband died while the two of you were fighting. Which you wouldn’t have been doing if not for Shyler.’ Chase took a quick mental stock of the facts. Had he stumbled onto part of the problem? If Shyler felt responsible for her father’s death, a parent she adored, a man she’d unwittingly forced to choose between her and her mother . . .
‘I . . . I’m sorry, Doctor, you’ll have to excuse me. I’m very busy.’ She tried to urge him towards the door.
Chase stood his ground. ‘Mrs O’Neil, are you aware Shyler is exhibiting symptoms of a possible psychological disorder?’
‘I . . .’
‘Did you tell her how you felt all these years? That you blamed her for her father’s death?’
‘Blamed her! I never blamed Shyler, I blamed myself. If I hadn’t been so – I’m sorry, Doctor, I’m really not well. You’ll have to leave.’
He stepped reluctantly out on the porch. ‘Your estrangement wouldn’t be the only cause. I’m sure if you saw her . . .’
‘I tried. If you only knew how . . . But Shyler refused and I couldn’t blame her.’
‘Things may have changed. She could feel differently now.’
She shook her head, noticed the map still clutched in her hand. Snatching a pencil from the desk she scrawled a few lines and handed it to him. ‘This is her ex-husband’s name and phone number. He can help you better than I.’
She swung the door towards him, then pulled it back.
‘Please, Doctor Hadley, help my girl.’
Chapter 38
Zack fell gasping to the ground. For a while the woman had
helped him along, held his arm, half supporting him. But ten minutes back she’d pulled out in front and had been getting farther and farther ahead of him. With darkness rapidly closing in, soon he wouldn’t be able to see her at all.
‘Hey, wait up!’
Her footsteps halted in the gloom ahead, then resumed, coming back to him.
‘Jesse, what is it? What are you doing?’
‘I need to rest.’ He’d given up trying to tell her his name.
‘We can’t. It’s not safe. We have to keep going.’ She crouched beside him. In the ghostly half-light her eyes were wide.
‘But we got away. There isn’t anyone after us. See.’ He indicated the trail behind them. ‘If they were coming they’d have caught up to us by now, don’t you think? We haven’t been going all that fast.’
She took a deep breath and swung down to sit on the ground beside him. ‘I suppose we can rest a little while.’
He slumped in relief. She hadn’t been trying to leave him behind. Despite his doubts about her sanity he’d much rather be with her than alone.
‘You were pretty cool back there,’ he said once his breathing had slowed. ‘I thought we were history but man, you beat them, you really did. The way you pushed that guy off the ladder. That was awesome!’
‘Jesse.’ Her tone was gently admonishing, as though she didn’t like him talking that way.
‘What, you think I’d be freaked out by something like that? No way. That dude had it coming.’
They sat in silence, straining to hear any sounds of movement or approaching footsteps above the burble of the nearby stream. Until she noticed he was shivering. ‘Here, put this on.’ She took off her jacket and draped it around him. Her warmth and scent gently enfolded him. She felt his brow, then his cheek, but kept her judgments to herself.
‘So, that other guy. The one who was screaming.’ Zack swallowed. ‘What happened to him?’
She peered around at the deepening shadows. ‘We should keep moving.’
‘You did something to him, didn’t you? Planted some kind of booby trap or something.’
She got to her feet. ‘Come on. If you can’t walk I’ll carry you a ways.’
He sighed in defeat. ‘I can walk. Just not so fast, all right?’
She helped him up then immediately turned and started off.
‘Hey!’ he called.
She stopped and looked back.
‘It’s getting kinda weird not knowing your name. What do I call you?’
‘Silly. You call me Mom, of course.’
Shyler went back, wrapped her arm around his shoulder and held him close as she ushered him along. It had to be the fever coming back that was making him ask such peculiar questions. He hadn’t felt hot when she’d checked him just now but he would be soon. The shock of what had happened, the exertion and cold would all take their toll. And as if that wasn’t bad enough . . .
How could she have forgotten the antibiotics? He wasn’t nearly recovered enough to go without them. As soon as his last dose wore off his infection would flare and resume its spread. Even in her panic she should have remembered!
It was too late now. They couldn’t go back. She’d just have to get him some more. But how? The doctor’s office was a good ten miles. He’d be struggling to make it another ten yards!
She held him closer as an idea spawned. A mile west of the doctor’s office was Heron Pond – the body of water into which her trout stream eventually fed. It was still ten miles. But if they used her canoe, followed the stream . . .
She changed direction.
‘Can we stop again?’ Jesse said weakly.
‘Not yet, honey. Just a little further. Then you can have a good long rest.’
Chapter 39
‘Tragg? It’s Vanessa.’
‘Where the hell are you?’
‘On my way back. I just crossed the border into New Hampshire. I’ve got two of the boys with me.’
Tragg felt a curious mix of feeling. Relief that the intel he’d got through Farrell had proved correct, anger that he’d had to go to such lengths to get it, and a touch of admiration for this woman’s shrewdness in escaping a no-win situation. ‘Any problems?’
Looking away from the sporadic traffic, Vanessa shot a glance at the sleeping figures on the car’s back seat. ‘Nothing major. One’s still recovering from that accident you had, and I had to sedate them both for the drive. They’ll need a day or so to recover.’
‘And which two boys are we talking about?’
‘The youngest ones – Ingles and Dennings.’
‘What about Ballinger?’
‘Nolan’s bringing him.’ A second’s pause. ‘Isn’t he back yet?’
Tragg couldn’t help a begrudging smile at the polished innocence of her surprise. Nor had he missed her subtle reference to the accident he had had. Just how deep would she dig herself in? ‘Should he be?’
‘I would’ve thought so. It’s what we arranged.’
‘What time did the two of you leave Deadwater?’
‘Well, we didn’t actually leave together.’
‘No? Why not?’
‘I didn’t see a need. I had my kids ready so I left and figured Nolan would follow.’
Tragg’s smile broadened. So far she’d carefully skirted the issue. Time to raise and see if she’d fold. ‘How were the roads?’
Son of a bitch! Vanessa straightened after jerking the wheel, sweat instantly beading her lip. All this time Tragg had been baiting her. Somehow he’d learned she’d walked out on Nolan. She had maybe three seconds to make a decision.
She made it in two. ‘The roads were fine. Nolan lied. He told you they were flooded to buy himself time.’
‘Time for what?’
‘To catch Ballinger. He lied about that, too. He didn’t have all of them when you talked to him last.’
‘But he did when you left him.’
She worked to speak but no words would form. The laughter issuing from the other end made her skin crawl.
‘Not a real team player, are you, Nessa?’
She cringed at his use of her uncle’s pet name for her. ‘I brought back two of them. Was it too much to expect him to bring the third?’
‘You left before the job was done.’
‘I did my part. Nolan was supposed –’
‘He’s your playmate. You were responsible!’ Tragg let her writhe in silence a moment. When he spoke again his voice was controlled. ‘Luckily the situation is being resolved even as we speak. I sent someone up to give Nolan a hand. Someone reliable.’
‘That’s a relief.’
Another laugh. ‘I’m sure it is.’
‘So what do you want me to do with these two?’
Tragg gave her the name of the motel where his men were staying. ‘Keep ’em out of sight and first thing tomorrow get down to the warehouse and find that stash.’
‘You mean you want me . . .?’
‘That’s right, I want you to do it. You did such a fine job of playing mommy. You bonded with those brats. They trust you now.’
She felt a shiver climb her spine. Did Tragg know the rest? Her moment of weakness, her brief insanity. Had Nolan told him?
No, he couldn’t have. Nolan didn’t know himself.
It had happened coming out of the hospital, carrying the little one in her arms, his soft curls warm against her throat. With the alarm still wailing she’d had the sense she was rescuing him, his noble protector.
But once in the car she’d started thinking about where they were going, what was in store for them – him and the other one – the true role she had played in it all. Whether they knew where the money was or not, it would end the same way.
She’d got as far as buying them clothes, little backpacks in bright colours, planning their escape route into Canada. Reality struck as she’d stood at the checkout, a large stuffed alligator under her arm, and watched a kid in the next line throw a tantrum on the floor. She’d walked outside, ditched w
hat she’d bought in the nearest dumpster, turned the car around and headed for New Hampshire. She wasn’t cut out for that sort of life. And yet . . .
‘You hesitate, Nessa?’ Tragg’s voice hissed in her ear. ‘I’m giving you the chance you’ve always wanted. Prove to your uncle you’ve got what it takes.’
She clamped her jaw to staunch a response. There was no way he could know what she’d almost done and yet he seemed to be mocking her for it. The absurdity of her compassion. The notion she could have such feelings at all.
‘What if they don’t know where Giles hid the case?’ she said through her teeth.
Tragg paused to consider her words. Yes, there was that possibility and he wouldn’t much relish informing Lazaro if it came to it. In the days his people had been searching the warehouse they’d turned the place upside down and not found a thing.
Then again, there was still the chance Farrell would bring Ballinger back alive, though getting him to cooperate might be a different story. The kid wasn’t just smart, he was gutsy. Not only had he arranged the accident that had allowed him and the others to escape but also he’d managed to evade recapture, making Nolan and Vanessa look like fools.
With a grim smile Tragg saw again the look of challenge in the boy’s eyes back in the ‘safe house’. Must be hard to get laid with a face like that. The kid had been shitting himself at the time yet he’d still found the balls to spit in his eye. In fact, looking back, the only weakness he’d ever shown . . .
‘Keep ’em alive,’ he said into the phone.
‘But if they don’t know anything –’
‘They could still be useful.’ His smile broadened when she didn’t respond. ‘Don’t worry, Nessa, when the time comes, the job is yours.’
Chase pulled the Land Rover into his driveway, shut off the engine and rested his head against the seat.
Ten thirty-five. He’d planned to be home well before this. Even at nine, when he and his father had left Presque Isle, he’d hoped he might still look for Shyler’s cabin tonight. But he had to accept it was too late now. He couldn’t just happen to show up at her place at this late hour. He pulled the key from the ignition and rubbed his eyes.