Let me get Luke to safety, please. Then I would welcome death.
Then I heard the sound of a siren, and within a minute, an ambulance passed us going at breakneck speed, back towards the house. To Darren.
I took a deep breath.
“What are you going to do to me?” I asked.
“Not to you, dear,” Chandler answered, patting my knee. “For you.” We drove in silence for a minute. “We have a long drive ahead of us, Danny,” Chandler said. “Why don’t you try to sleep? You look like you could use it.”
And to my surprise, I did.
* * *
I came awake with Ginger’s voice whispering in my ear, telling me to breathe. “Breathe,” she kept saying, over and over.
The car had stopped, and Chandler was looking at me curiously.
“What did you say?” he asked me. “What did you just say?”
I struggled to sit up and become fully conscious. My right cheek was pressed against the cold glass of the car window, but that side of my head felt like it was on fire.
“Nothing,” I said.
“She sounded just like Ginger…” Jeanette started to say from the backseat, but Chandler stopped her.
“Never mind,” he said. “We’re here.” He turned the car smoothly into a long wooded driveway. It was overgrown and beautiful. And remote. I shut my eyes and tried to block out the pain from my head and my ankle, and think. Darren would be okay. Darren would be okay. Darren would be okay because I wouldn’t be able to survive if he wasn’t. And Luke was inside this building, and he would be fine.
And if Darren wasn’t okay, if Luke wasn’t okay, and I got out of this place, I would hunt down and kill every last one of these people. The thought made me feel calmer, more centred. It wasn’t exactly a concrete plan, but I had learned that anger and revenge are great ways to fight pain.
Chandler came around and opened my door. He held out his hand. “It’s time to go in, Danny,” he said. Jeanette had come around the side of the car, and between the two of them, they helped me out of the car. I did need the help, but I also wanted them to think I was completely unable to move unassisted.
I hoped I wasn’t.
With a strength that disheartened me – there was no way I would be able to overpower this man in any way, even if I was twenty-five years younger than him – Chandler half carried me down the long driveway. The light told me that it was mid-afternoon, which meant that we had probably been driving for at least a couple of hours. My brain wasn’t working well enough to figure out where we could be, but all I could see were more dark woods.
I thought we were probably still in Maine. This is where it had begun with Chandler and his twisted idea of family. And this is where it would end. And if I died in Maine, that would be okay too. It was also where I began, after all.
The house surprised me by being a lovely wooden cabin, large and sleekly modern. If you had asked me, I would have expected a castle. With a moat. Something more sinister.
This, the main floor, was probably a thousand square feet or so, all open concept without being out of place in the Maine woods. It was what most people’s idea of a New England lodge should look like, a place where parties of rich men could come and hunt, and their wives could collect leaves in the woods and read novels on the porch.
Chandler gently helped me into a comfortable chair around the large wooden table. He said something I couldn’t hear to Jeanette, and she put the gun down on the counter and disappeared for a bit, then set a cup of hot coffee down in front of me. I sipped the coffee, not caring if they had drugged it. It was hot, and it was good.
Jeanette was busying herself making a fire, and Chandler was looking in the fridge. He took out a big Tupperware container.
“Early dinner?” Chandler asked. “You really should eat something, Danny.”
I shook my head, but a few minutes later he put a bowl of fragrant, steaming stew in front of me anyway. It looked and smelled better than anything I had ever consumed. He helped himself to a bowl. Jeanette picked up her gun again and sat at the end of the table glaring at me. Now that we were on her home turf, her psycho-friendliness had worn off.
Chandler dug into his food without talking, and after a minute, during which I told myself that not eating would be counterproductive, so did I. When I had finished the first bowl, Chandler got up and wordlessly filled it again. He sat back down, smiled at me, and continued eating. So did I. With my good ear, I listened for any signs of Luke.
Ignore the woman holding a Kalashnikov at the end of the table, and it would have made a nice, homey scene.
I finished my meal and looked around. Chandler chatted about the weather and the approaching storm. Jeanette continued to glare at me, but she looked tired. She hadn’t had any food, or even coffee. Chandler got up and took a bottle of red wine from a small wine rack on the counter, and opened it. He put glasses in front of us, ignoring Jeanette, and poured. I half expected him to toast something, but he took a long swig, and fiddled with a cigarette before lighting it.
“Smoke, Danny?” Chandler asked me, and I nodded, and took a sip of wine. It seeped into my veins, and reacted nicely with the coffee and stew. I could feel myself relax, just the tiniest bit, and it scared me. Chandler lit two cigarettes, and handed me one. I took it. He smiled at me. I was only an occasional smoker, despite the crack use, but it sure seemed like a good time for one.
“See?” he said, smiling. “Not so bad, eh?” He seemed relaxed here, and less imposing.
“Can I see my nephew please?” I touched my ear and winced.
“Oh dear,” Chandler said. “Let’s get you fixed up, shall we?”
“Please,” I said. “Luke. I’ll do whatever you want, give you whatever you want. I just want to make sure he’s okay.”
“He’s sleeping, my dear. You can see him in the morning.” The morning. As if I was going to live that long.
Chandler stood up and went into a room off the kitchen, coming back with a first aid kit.
“Wow,” he said, gently cleaning the blood off my head. “Harry really did a number on you.”
“Not as much as I did on him,” I said, and Chandler smiled at me, then laughed. Jeanette did not. She looked angry again. “Why was he there, anyway? How did you know we’d go to the old house?”
“We didn’t, for sure,” he said. “But Harry had spent a lot of time with you,” and here he winked at me, and I tried not to spit in his face, “and he guessed you would. We’d just dropped him off earlier today. He was going to set some sort of elaborate trap for you if you went there. Some Boy Scout stuff which would have undoubtedly failed. Plus, he wanted to look around, get some more info on your family. You know, if you didn’t agree to our plan. Then we’d have to get involved with the rest of the Clearys – what a palaver that would be!” I looked at him. Batshit crazy. Utterly batshit. “When we went to pick him up… well, we saw Darren lying in the snow out front, and found what you had done.” He looked at me. “That was quite artistic, if I may say, Danny. The arrows? Nice touch.” He looked impressed, almost proud, and not at all upset about losing Miller.
I looked at Jeanette. I was glad I’d killed her foster brother. Give her a chance to feel what it was to lose the people you loved.
“Jeanette, honey,” Chandler was saying, “why don’t you go and have a nap. You must be exhausted.” He looked at me. “I don’t think we’ll need you for a while.”
I expected her to protest, but she stood and laid the gun on her chair, and left the room.
I wondered what he would need her for in a while.
“It was ironic, running into you at the house there,” I said. I was surprised by how normal I sounded. “I was just thinking, in the car, of calling your office in Newport and asking if you knew where Dave is. You know, the private detective.”
“You would have missed me,” he said. “And as for Dave – I have no idea. I’m sure he’ll turn up eventually.” He sounded distracted. He was carefull
y cleaning the wound, and I found myself gulping down the rest of my wine. The renewed pain had woken up all my senses, and I didn’t want that. I didn’t want that at all.
So much for finding out anything about Dave. Or who he belonged to.
“Danny,” Chandler said, “the arrow tore your earlobe in half, but it’s all here. I’m going to have to stitch it.”
I nodded slightly. If they were going to kill me in the next couple of hours, they probably wouldn’t bother stitching me up. And I doubted they were trying to kill me with lethal stitches to the earlobe.
He stood up.
“You know what, Danny? Why don’t we hang on for a minute or so,” he said, and I tensed again. He was going to say that there was no point wasting his time in patching me up. “I think you should have some painkillers. Don’t you?”
I said nothing. This was it. He was going to drug me, and tie me up, and I would die like Ginger had. I gingerly leaned forward an inch or two and tested the strength of my ankle on the floor. If I was going to die, I was going to die on my terms. I was not going to let this motherfucker and what was left of his merry tribe do whatever they wanted to me. I glanced around, looking for something I could use as a weapon. Could I make it to Jeanette’s chair and get the gun? I thought I could. I started breathing more shallowly, hoping for an adrenaline response. Jack had taught me that. It would help with the pain, make it easier for me to bear it and do what I needed to do.
Chandler grinned at me, shaking his head, and picked up the semi-automatic.
“You won’t need this, Danny,” he said. “And trust me, in very few minutes, you won’t even want it. We’re going to be best friends, you know. Like family, even.”
“Family. That sounds obscene, coming from you,” I said. “You killed my family.”
“Oh, Danny, I’m sorry about all that. I didn’t think that was necessary, not at all, but Jeanette and Harry? Well they did love to egg each other on. And as for Scott, or Jack as you knew him – well, that was his own fault, wasn’t it? I mean, if he had just continued to play his part, everything would have been fine. None of this would have happened. Your sister would still be alive and a mother to her boys.” Chandler walked around the table. “Besides, when you think about it, you’ve killed more of my family than we have yours.” He took a swig of wine, and loosened his tie, which seemed so out of place here. “But one thing I always taught my children is that we’re much stronger working together than we are on our own. Danny,” he said, leaning over and patting my hand, “you can be with us. You have great skills. You have wealth now. Lola is gone, and Miller. Lola had lots of loyalty, it’s true. Not terrifically bright, though. But I’ll need someone with your skill set. You aren’t part of normal society anyway. You know you’ll never fit in again with normal people. And you’re smart. You’d be much more valuable working with us than you will simply as an…”
“Income stream,” I finished for him. I smiled, though it made me feel sick.
“Exactly!” Chandler said. “Exactly.” He rubbed his face. “I really hate being scruffy.” I looked at him, trying to think. I touched my ear and winced a little more than was necessary.
“Oh, Danny, I am so sorry. I was going to get you something for the pain.” He hopped down lightly from where he had perched on the counter, and went into the living room. I watched him, half expecting to feel the muzzle of the gun against the base of my skull at any minute. I still didn’t know how many other people could be in this place. I hadn’t heard anything, but then again my hearing was compromised.
He returned carrying a tray, and placed it in front of me. When I saw what was on it, I stopped breathing.
A lighter. A pipe. And a nice big rock of crack.
“For you,” Chandler said quietly. “My gift to you. For all we’ve put you through.” I looked at him. “Go on,” he continued. “Don’t worry. It’s good. It’s not laced with anything. This time.” He winked at me, and poured some more wine.
“Enjoy,” he said.
31
I wish I could say I hesitated, but I did not.
I wasn’t used to regular pipes, but I managed. With shaking fingers, I broke off a decent-sized piece of the rock, and dropped it in, flicking some of my cigarette ash in first to keep it in place. The pipe was a work of art, looked like titanium, shiny and spotless. I took the lighter and tested it. It was new.
Then I held the pipe in my mouth, and lit it.
I could tell, inhaling the smoke, that it was the best crack I’d ever had. Ever would have, even if I lived to be a hundred, and did this every day for the rest of my life. I held the smoke in my lungs and put the pipe down, then exhaled.
Pain? Gone. Euphoria? Check, and double check.
I closed my eyes. Baby, I thought. I’m back. I am back. It was so exquisite that tears came to my eyes.
“You make that look so good, I’d almost be tempted to try it,” Chandler said, and without thinking I held it out for him. He laughed.
“No, no, Danny,” he said. “I’ll pass for now. That’s for you.”
Everything was fuzzy and bright at the same time, and I almost forgave Chandler for the lying and deceit. He was working on my ear, and for a moment I felt immense gratitude to him. He had let me call the ambulance for Darren, after all, hadn’t he? And I did believe that Luke was tucked into bed sleeping. He knew I’d kill him if that wasn’t true. I started to turn my head toward him, but he held onto it.
“Don’t move, Danny,” he said. “I’m about to start the stitches.”
“I never knew you could sew,” I said. He laughed. He got up and refilled my wine glass, and I took a ladylike sip. I didn’t need it anymore, but I thought it best to be polite.
“Thank you,” I said calmly. I was trying not to sound as high as I was. I was trying to sound relaxed, calm, and in control.
I was relaxed. One out of three ain’t bad.
Without moving my head – I wasn’t so high that I had lost my fine motor control, not yet – I took the pipe and relit it, wanting a little more right away. It had been so long. I closed my eyes.
Danny, Ginger’s voice said to me, from somewhere. Danny, you have to stop. Danny. Stop.
“Am I hurting you?” Chandler was saying. I exhaled, the rush taking me over. “You told me to stop.”
I looked down at him, and for a minute he looked really concerned, like avoiding giving me pain was his top priority. “No,” I said. “Sometimes I just say that, when I’m getting high. It’s like a mantra, I think.” My words were coming out slowly, but I thought they sounded okay.
“Okay,” Chandler said. “I’m going to finish with your ear.”
“Yup,” I said, and closed my eyes. I could feel what he was doing, and was aware that there was pain involved, but it was like being frozen at the dentist. I needed to go to the dentist. The thought made me laugh out loud.
“I guess the stuff is good, huh,” Chandler was saying. “You’re not even flinching.”
“It is,” I said, gazing at the rock in front of me. It had to be somewhere between three and four eightballs, probably twelve or thirteen grams. Even I couldn’t do all that on my own, in one sitting. Maybe he was trying to kill me by overdose. I didn’t care. Somewhere in my brain I remembered Jack telling me how much this man hated addicts. But I believed that this batch wasn’t tainted.
Danny, stop.
Chandler was finished patching up my ear, and I touched it. A large gauze pad was covering the right side of my head.
“You have medical training?” I asked. He was squatting at my feet now, removing my socks and Ginger’s hiking boots. When had I put those on? Oh yeah. Before going to the airport. Back in California.
Years ago.
“A bit,” Chandler said. “Army. Back in my misspent youth.”
I nodded at him, encouraging him to go on. I couldn’t talk yet. I was trying to think. I fingered the pipe, but didn’t pick it up.
“This ankle is a mess,” Chandler
said. “It’s very swollen.” As he capably but gently pressed my foot and ankle to determine if anything was broken, I watched curiously. Everything else had receded: Ginger’s death – and possibly Darren’s – Jack, the rest of the family. Even the twins. Nothing mattered but this, this moment. I had to get my head together. I had the largest amount of the best-quality crack I had ever seen at one time sitting in front of me, and I was pretty sure that someone’s life was going to depend on my not smoking it.
If Darren made it, he would have told the police, or someone, about what had happened. They would be looking for me. But how? Looking for me in the thousands and thousands of acres of snow-covered Maine wilderness.
If Darren had made it.
Danny. Stop.
I took my hand away from the pipe. Chandler was wrapping my ankle carefully. The gun was on the floor behind him, out of my reach. I couldn’t trust my reflexes right now; that much I knew. But would I get another chance as good as this? I figured I would need at least another half an hour to clear my brain enough to be able to function, for my body to respond to my brain’s commands and for my brain to figure out the best course of action.
I would get another chance. I would have to.
Footsteps behind me, two sets.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Jeanette said from behind me. “I thought we should have a real family reunion.” I felt a prickle up the back of my neck and when I turned around I saw that she was leading someone into the kitchen. Someone who was blindfolded, shackled, handcuffed.
And had red hair.
“Fred,” I said. I tried to think past the crack. “Fancy seeing you here.”
Chandler shook his finger at me. “You are slick, Danny,” he said. “Cool as a cucumber.” I smiled at him, which at least I could manage, with all the crack. “Jeanette honey, let Fred have a seat at the table. And with all of us here, I really don’t think he needs such elaborate restraints.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Fred should join the party.” I found myself nodding my head happily, not sure if I really was that high, or I was playing it up to give myself time to think. “He looks thirsty.”
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