by Noelle Hart
In the parking lot they'd found the stolen van Hammond had used to transport Stokes's wife and child. Sela Stokes had outlined how he'd kept them hidden and immobilized whilst keeping an eye on Stokes's activities.
Crane held up his hand for silence. The roster included Will, Lyle, Jolene, Kim, Rita and Joe. “Everyone will get their chance to speak. Mr. Delaney, let's start with you.”
“How's this for a moniker?” Will fired off. “Slippery eel. Who are you guys, the Keystone Cops? Why weren't you able to track them?”
Crane leapfrogged the sarcasm. “Prying the device off the handle was a good tactic but it got damaged. We couldn't get a clear fix on them after the alley.”
Joe wasn't letting it go. “If Kim was able to follow them, why weren't your people?”
“Slippery eel doesn't begin to describe this guy. He knew where to find Kylie and sent Paul to meet her. How he did it we have yet to work out.”
Rita came to Crane's aid. “None of you were there,” she said quietly. “The crowds were thick, nearly impenetrable. Impossible to keep track of someone.”
Joe looked mildly surprised. “Are you defending the Detective's team, Rita? They were...”
“...only trying to do their job,” she finished. “Please, let's not turn this meeting into a blame session. We need to figure out how to keep Kylie safe. How to keep all of us safe.”
“She's right,” said Kylie. “Drew knew right from the get-go at Beacon Hill what we were up to and then used Paul Stokes to ferret me out. He's a mad genius, formulating intricate schemes that keep our heads spinning. Detective, you're the professional. How did he do it?”
Crane stroked his mustache, thinking. “The night he killed Stacie Hoyle he may have given himself an insurance policy. He wants you alone, and he's willing to go to great lengths to get you that way.” He held out his hand. “Give me your cell phone.”
She handed it over.
Crane removed the cover of the battery compartment and flipped it over. A long Velcro-like strip was attached to it. He held it up for everyone to see.
“This is a listening device. He bugged Kylie's phone.”
The implications of it hung over the room like a nasty smell.
“Kylie,” said Crane, “I need you to remember every call you've made or received since then. What I'm wondering is, did you talk to anyone on your cell about losing the baby?”
She concentrated. “I must not have. On the cliff at Saxe Point he was still under the illusion that I'm pregnant.”
“There might be more devices in your apartment. I'm sending someone over there now to debug. May I have your key?”
Silently she took it off her key ring and handed it over.
Crane gave the key to an officer along with instructions. The young man left the room.
“I sent Carrie and the kids to see her Mom on Pender Island,” said Kim.
“Kim's right,” Kylie acknowledged, “you should all leave. Jolene, this might be a good time to visit your parents up island. Mom, Dad, why not take that cruise you've been wanting to go on? The rest of you, figure out where to go, but go!”
Joe's quiet resolve echoed everyone's immediate protests. “Do you really think your mother and I could sail off into some tropical sunset and leave you in a lurch?”
Kylie looked from person to person, each face set with stony determination. “You're all masochists.” She rubbed her weary eyes and sighed. “And I love you all for it. Thanks for your support. That includes you, Detective. Keystone cops and all.”
Will squeezed her hand even as Crane flushed with embarrassment. They were all in this together, the outcome both in and out of their hands.
*
The diner stayed open and it was business as usual.
Kylie stayed with Will and Jolene with Lyle. Conferring with Jay Humphrey, Will put an alarm system on both the diner and his home utilizing more complicated circuitry that Jay guaranteed couldn't be disarmed by a career criminal, much less an amateur like Hammond. Of course that kind of security came with a hefty price, but Will figured it was worth every cent. Lyle and Kim's places were next in line, along with Rita and Joe's.
Nerves stretched tight, then eased off as days, then weeks went by. Although everyone settled into their routines, no one let down their guard.
Kylie's ankle healed. At Valley Farms, she and her crew were busy if not overworked. They were gearing up for the coming winter months when the fields would lie dormant under their blankets of frost and all plant production would be under the clear acetate roofs of the temperature controlled greenhouses.
Kylie threw herself into the demanding physical aspect of her work, giving her little time to think. When she did, the same question tumbled in her mind: was there something she could do to prevent Drew from involving others?
At mid week Kylie supervised her crew on soil preparation. They made their various blends in large drums which were turned to mix soil, peat, vermiculite and compost with an electronic winch. Each ingredient was fed in with pitch forks or shovels.
Sweating despite the autumn chill, Kylie tossed aside her shovel and picked up her clipboard to tick off this latest batch from her list.
A shadow fell over her and she jumped.
“Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you.” It was Margie, and standing next to her were Olivia and Stanley Hammond. “I'll leave you all to talk.” She headed back to her office.
Kylie peeled off her gloves and shook their hands. “You should have had Margie call me into the office. There are chairs and everything.”
“Ms. Farmer offered but we wanted to see what it is you do here,” Stanley informed her.
Kylie took in his jeans and polo shirt, noted that Olivia was similarly dressed. Shouldn't Stanley be in a suit and at work?
“Would you like a tour of the greenhouses?”
Olivia's eyes lit up. “Yes!” She turned to Stanley. “At least I would.”
“It sounds educational. Please, lead on.”
Leaving instructions with her crew, Kylie took them into the third of a long row of greenhouses where production was currently in full swing. This one held the fussier plants like orchids and violets. Olivia was instantly enthralled.
Strolling along a wide aisle, Kylie asked the burning question. “What brings you two out here? I can imagine Olivia wanting to see this, but you, sir?”
Stanley's smile was polite, even humble. “I won't mince words. Our son has committed unspeakable acts against innocent people.” He linked his fingers with Olivia's. “In part I'm to blame. I was a terrible role model as a parent and as a man. As a husband.” He swallowed, determined not to choke on his words. “I want to ask for forgiveness. I misjudged you, badly. I had no right to speak to you the way I did when you came to our home. No matter what the outcome with Drew, we want you to know that if you need anything, anything at all, we will do our best to help.”
Kylie absorbed, smiled wistfully. “Thank you.” She realized that Olivia looked clear eyed, her skin no longer sallow. “You've stopped drinking,” she blurted.
Olivia didn't skip a beat. “I have. Stanley takes me to AA meetings. So far so good. He's taking a sabbatical from work until this thing is over.”
Kylie reacted spontaneously as she pulled Olivia into a fierce hug. “If you'll still have me, I want to work here,” Olivia sputtered. “Stanley thinks it will be good for me, don't you dear?”
He nodded.
“Of course we want you. When can you start?”
*
Frank Barrymore couldn't move.
Hands and feet tied to the straight back chair he'd been forced into, he glared angrily at his captor.
The precious Siberians, Bonnie and Clyde, were sequestered in a bathroom down the hall. They'd kept up a constant clamor until Frank had been told to shut them up. Thankfully they'd obeyed his command.
Drew Hammond sat perched on a chair opposite. Frank knew who he was, what he'd done. Why this monster was here.
&nbs
p; His tone was soft and dangerous. “When is your wife due home?”
“She's not. She's on the mainland. Won't be back for a week or so.”
Drew applauded. “Nice performance, but I happen to know she was at her clinic this morning.” He extracted a vile looking knife and toyed with its sharply honed blade. “Tell me again, what time will she be here?”
Frank clamped his mouth shut and regarded Drew with open hatred. He wasn't giving this clown anything.
The knife flashed and a miniscule line of blood beaded across Frank's cheek. Paper thin, the cut stung and throbbed, and despite his bravado Frank's mind went wild with what might come next.
“Once more. What time, Frankie boy? I don't have all night. Although the idea of spending some real time with you nice folks this evening is tempting.”
Panic laced his words. “She... she doesn't keep regular hours.”
“Really. Let's hope...” Drew stopped as a car pulled into the driveway. He pulled back the drape. “Oh look, she's here. Just in time.” Moving quickly, Drew pulled a monogrammed handkerchief from his pocket and stuffed it into Frank's mouth. “Excuse me just a moment, will you?” He hurriedly left the room.
Frank worked his tongue furiously trying to dislodge the cloth but it was wadded firmly into his throat cavity, cutting off his air. Desperately he sucked in oxygen through his nostrils and began to choke when very little made it into his airway.
Pushed from behind, Dr. Lydia Barrymore exploded into the room. It was their receiving room at the front of the house, the same place Kylie had iced her cheek while sipping tea and telling her sad story. The dogs barked and whined agitatedly from the bathroom off the hallway.
Lydia pulled the cloth from Frank's mouth just as he was turning purple. He gasped for air as she whirled to confront their attacker.
“Shut them up!” Drew yelled over the din.
Lydia issued the command and the dogs fell into anxious whimpering. Lydia's wizened face contorted into defiant fear. “What do you want, Mr. Hammond?”
“Good, you know who I am.” He circled them with a penetrating manic gaze. “I want you to educate me, Dr. Barrymore. Fill me in on some inside information.”
“Such as?”
“Oh now, don't look at me like that. I won't hurt you or fatso here. As long as you're truthful. You're going to be just that, aren't you, doctor?”
“You want to know about Kylie Lambert.”
He stopped circling. “Sit down, doctor. Tell me all about her pregnancy. How's it going?”
Weak kneed, Lydia sank onto the edge of the sofa next to Frank's chair. Drew dropped down next to her, his facial scars lurid. His fingers caressed the knife almost reverently.
“Go ahead,” he prompted her.
Lydia had been informed by Detective Crane that they were trying to keep the idea of the child alive for as long as possible. Agreeing to going along with the charade in a brightly lit office was one thing, having to pull it off in this dire situation was quite another.
“Now Dr. Barrymore, I can see the wheels turning in your head,” said Drew, his tone conversational. “You're trying to figure out how to tell me a lie, aren't you? I can see it in your eyes. You're not a very good liar, doctor. Maybe Frank needs to convince you to be truthful.”
In an instant he was up and behind Frank, the knife held in the fold of his ear. “What do you say, doc? Shall we imitate art and pull a Van Gogh?”
“No! Please, I'll tell you whatever you want to know.” When he narrowed his eyes and pulled Frank's ear further out, “The baby's doing fine! Please... don't hurt him!”
Sweat poured in rivulets down Frank's face as he held the breath he'd not gotten enough of moments before. Anticipating pain, his eyes closed as he sent out a silent prayer for help.
The knife eased off slightly.
“The baby's doing fine, you say. But doctor, shouldn't she be showing by now?”
A fraction of hesitation as Lydia's inward battle raged. Should she give up the ghost? Or risk her husband's ear, possibly his life! The answer came swiftly: this man had no scruples; enough blood had been shed.
Lydia let out a long, shaky breath. “You're right Mr. Hammond, I'm not a good liar. She lost the baby. When you punched her in the stomach, it caused the fetus to dislodge.” Watching the light dim in his eyes, she couldn't help but add, “I'm sorry.”
Nostrils flaring, Drew's demeanor shut down as he withdrew into himself. Absently he yanked Frank's ear, then let go, sheathing the knife.
He stood over Lydia. “I cannot abide being lied to. Kylie lied to me, but you told the truth. Thank you, Dr. Barrymore.”
When Drew turned away, Lydia exhaled, and then just as quickly sucked in air when the knife came out and in one almost graceful movement, the outer shell of Frank's ear was neatly sliced off.
Frank let out a howl that was matched by the Siberians in the hallway bathroom.
Drew held Frank's severed ear in his hand, absently let it drop to the floor. “Frank lied to me too. I'm giving you this gift, Dr. Barrymore, because he didn't really get what a liar deserves.”
Frank slumped in his chair, blood dripping, quiet sobs wracking his body.
“I should have taken his tongue. Remember that, for future reference.”
He left the room. When they heard the back door close, Lydia, trembling all over, rose and retrieved a pair of scissors from her desk to cut her husband loose.
*
“Now he knows.”
Will clicked off his cell.
“Knows what?” asked Lyle, stirring the logs in the fireplace with a poker. Sparks flew up the chimney and heat flared into the room. The evening had chilled with seasonal gusto, marking the onset of what was predicted to be a long, bone cold winter.
They'd pulled a pair of cozy oversized armchairs in front of the fireplace. Outside the typical Victoria rain drizzled down, making a night like this just what the doctor ordered.
Only one doctor, thought Will morosely as he pulled Kylie closer, would be spending her night in a hospital making sure her husband got the best of care. While the four of them sat here sipping hot chocolate laced with potent whiskey, Frank Barrymore was undergoing cosmetic surgery to reattach his outer ear, either graciously or unwittingly left behind by an obsessive killer.
He narrated everything Crane had told him. As he spoke he felt Kylie's body tense, watched her eyes fill with renewed worry.
“Maybe it's better this way,” suggested Jolene. “He might even back off altogether now that he knows the baby is out of the picture.”
“He lopped off Frank Barrymore's ear in retaliation for a lie,” murmured Kylie. “A lie, I might add, that was intended to protect his wife. What do you think Drew will want for my lie about still being pregnant? He won't let this go.” She felt Will's arms tighten around her. “If all he wanted was to kill me, he could have accomplished that a dozen times already. He took me to that cabin because he wanted time to act out his nasty little fantasy, whatever it may be.”
“He wants you to fret,” said Will. “Wants you to feel just as messed up as he is. He's systematically working on it.”
Lyle snorted. “He's on a fucking power trip.”
Jolene saw that Kylie was fighting tears. She scooted out of Lyle's embrace and grabbed Kylie's hand, hauled her to her feet. “Let's fix another round.”
In the kitchen, Kylie let the waterworks spill while Jolene stroked her back and handed her tissues.
“What the hell,” Kylie mumbled, and poured herself a straight shot of whiskey and downed it. She couldn't remember the last time she'd gotten drunk, but tonight seemed as good a time as any.
The straight whiskey did its job. False bravado intact, she grabbed two glasses and went back out to face the men. “Watch out, Delaney,” she provoked. “Pardon the pun, but tonight I'm jumping your bones all the way to kingdom come!”
*
She awoke in the early dawn on a scream, sitting straight up in bed. Terrifyingl
y real, in her nightmare Drew had dissected her, slicing her open from naval to pubis, extracting a slimy creature straight out of hell out of which he took a massive bite.
Will held on to her, stroking her back and murmuring incoherent words. Already the dream was fading as the here and now with Will flooded in. Relief came in waves.
“My head's pounding.” She rubbed her temples in circular motions.
Will handed her a glass of water and shook two pain killers into her palm. “Serves you right for trying to out-drink Lyle. I had to sling you over my shoulder like a caveman and carry you in here.” He nuzzled her shoulder. For distraction's sake, “You never fulfilled your big announcement either.”
“What announcement?”
“The one about jumping my bones.”
His fingers traced a light, teasing line down her spine, awakening her senses. “A promise is a promise,” she said, and turned into his embrace.
Their bodies moved in the kind of sync that lovers acquire through familiarity, a haven for their troubled emotions, doubts and fears. For a while Kylie found peace as Will's love washed over and around her, cleaning away the filth of Drew Hammond's psychosis.
This time the sweet, dark enclosure of dreamless sleep swept her into oblivion, where nothing could touch her.
* * * *
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
The diner was busy as hell, a quote from Kim. They were running lunch specials of comfort food to ward off autumn's chill, a different stew every day from spicy chicken gumbo to hearty beef with barley. No one left hungry or wanting.
“We should do a side-line business of baked goods,” Kim told Lyle as they worked in tandem, pumping out orders. “We can slap on a fancy label, market 'em out to the delis and supermarkets. Other restaurants. We'll have those extra ovens to work with at the new location. Picture this: we do our thing as usual but in the mornings we pump out irresistible low calorie confections.”