The Cabin

by Carla Neggers

  He'd find a way to blame everything on her, and he'd find a way to kill her and make it look as if he'd saved the day.

  Poor Rachel. She'd thought he was her knight in shining armor.

  "The anonymous call and my change purse. You wanted me to find Rachel and see the evidence you planted to incriminate me. You knew I'd panic and mess up the crime scene. And if you guessed wrong and I was working with a partner that night, you'd still have the change purse. A win-win scenario for you."

  Another nudge with the H&K. "Keep walking."

  Alice knew her fingers and cheeks were frostbitten. Her toes were numb, dead-feeling, the excruciating pain of frostbite gone now. She could end up losing couple of them, if Beau didn't kill her first. She was dehydrated and hungry, dumb with exhaustion.

  But suddenly she could smell smoke, assumed it was from the fireplace at Susanna's cabin, and felt her heart jump. She had no idea what Beau had in mind. "You didn't have to kill Destin," she said in half whisper. "He was just a harmless, self-absorbed blowhard."

  "His greed killed him." Beau's tone was cold, without remorse or sympathy. "Nothing more, nothing less. He made his choices."

  "And you pushed him off a cliff."

  He didn't respond, and they descended a long, sloping hill. She could see the woods open up and knew they were coming upon the cabin now, that she'd have to concentrate, anticipate, think, for once in her life, like a good cop. But the wind and the snow kept pounding at her, and her mind was numb, her body aching. She was past shivering. She just wanted to lie down and sleep. Never mind an active death. She'd curl up in the snow and go quietly.

  "Stop," Beau said, pulling her behind a snow-laden evergreen. He pressed Destin's gun into her back and said, his breath hot on her ear, "That's Sam Temple's vehicle. The truck Lieutenant Galway borrowed from the plumber isn't here."

  "What did you do, spend the night scouting?"

  "Shh, Alice. You want to live through this, don't you? You're a survivor. Don't pretend you aren't. Look at what you let happen to Destin Wright to save your skin

  with me."

  "That's not fair."

  He gave a quiet, cold laugh. "Do as I say, precisely as I tell you to. Do you understand?"

  She nodded, her eyelids heavy. What if she just collapsed in the snow?

  "I want you to go to the back door," he said. "Draw Sam Temple outside. Tell him you've found Destin and Susanna and you need his help. I'll be watching."

  "What're you going to do?"

  She could feel his smile. "Stop you."

  "You're going to kill me," she said dully. "You're going to be the hero. The great savior." She shook her head—or thought she did. She couldn't tell. "They won't believe you."

  "Leave that to me. If you don't do as I say, Alice, I'll kill you right here, right now. Do you understand?"

  She nodded. "Yes."

  "This path veers off and goes up over the hill out to the Herrington house. It's a shortcut. If you make one wrong move, I will shoot you and get out of here before anyone can do anything about it. There won't be any witnesses. You'll be dead. My prints aren't on this gun. Destin Wright's are."

  "Beau, this is crazy—"

  He raised the H&K to her temple. "You'll go to the back door. You'll draw Sam Temple out."

  He lowered the gun, and Alice knew she had two choices. She could let him shoot her now. Or she could let him shoot her in a few minutes.

  She figured she'd have a better chance of surviving with Sam Temple on the scene than up here with just her and Beau. And even if she didn't, it wasn't going to do anyone any good if she let him shoot her now. He was already here. He wasn't leaving. He probably had two or three backup plans, and all of them included shooting somebody.

  He couldn't just shoot her in the back the way he had Rachel. He needed a good reason to shoot her, so he could tell Sam Temple "there you go, there's your murderer, I saved you."

  Knocking on a door and asking a Texas Ranger for help wasn't a good reason.

  Maybe he planned to get Sam Temple to shoot her.

  Something.

  She wished she could think faster.

  As she walked toward the cabin, she was vaguely aware that her feet were cold and wet, blistering, and her hands were shaking. Beau had chosen his cover well, a tall evergreen closest to the back door. He was known in south Texas for his excellent marksmanship. If he started shooting, he wouldn't miss.

  "Sergeant Temple?" Alice sniffled, her words intelligible and clear, but her voice obviously on the threshold of complete panic. "It's me, Alice Parker. Susanna's in trouble—she needs your help—"

  Sam Temple emerged from the cabin with his .357 SIG Sauer drawn and pointed right at her. "Don't move."

  She opened her palms in front of him. "I'm not armed. Susanna's hurt." Alice half expected to feel the bullet in her back, pictured Beau crouched in the woods, taking aim with the H&K…Destin's gun. Would he blame Destin, not her? Destin and her? "Oh, my God, Beau's not going to shoot me—Sam, he—"

  But Temple had already seen something, sensed something, because he grabbed her, pulling her with him back into the mud room—protecting her—even as she heard the shot.

  He kicked the mud room door shut, pinning Alice to the floor, his weapon on her. She knew he'd been hit. She saw his hard grimace as the blood oozed from a wound in his upper thigh.

  "I don't know what he's going to do. Give me your gun, sergeant," she said, panicked, "let me go after him—"

  "Don't move," Temple said, moving toward the kitchen, the bullet in his leg not stopping him.

  A girl screamed.

  Iris Dunning appeared in the door to the kitchen. She was pale. Shaken. She sank against the door frame, ghostlike. "Sam—the twins—"

  He touched her shoulder, breaking through her shock. "Which way?"

  She couldn't seem to focus on what he was saying. "They didn't stay in their rooms like you told them. They ran out onto the porch—I don't know what they were thinking—"

  "Iris," Sam said. "Where did McGarrity take them?"

  "Off the porch. Up—up into the woods."

  "His car—" Alice could barely speak. She felt woozy, and for a second, she thought she might pass out. "It's at the Herrington house. He told me."

  "Stay here," Temple said. "Both of you." He glanced at Iris. "Call the police. Get hold of Jack."

  He headed outside, and Alice stood frozen in the mud room, noticing the snow melting off her boots. She stared at Iris Dunning. "I'm sorry," Alice whispered. "I didn't know what to do. Susanna—I think she's still alive."

  The old woman looked as if she weren't breathing at all. "Can you help Maggie and Ellen?" she asked weakly. "Sam's been shot. That man—"

  Alice saw the keys to the SUV on the mud room floor, in a small puddle of water. They must have fallen out of Sam's pocket when he'd pulled her inside, saving both their lives. Beau had meant to shoot them both. She saw that now. He'd had that split second of opportunity, and he'd failed, not because she'd seen it in time—because Sam Temple had.

  She should have realized what Beau meant to do sooner. First he'd shoot Temple. Then he'd swoop out of the woods while Alice was still screaming and shoot her at close range. He'd claim she was the one who'd shot Sam Temple and that he'd wrestled the gun from her, shooting her in the process.

  Then he'd shoot any witnesses who would tell a different story. Kill everyone if he had to.

  But he hadn't managed to kill Sam Temple.

  Now he had the Galway twins.

  Why hadn't he slipped back through the woods when his plan went awry, while he still had the chance?

  The man operated according to a logic and standards all his own. He'd sabotaged his damn automatic garage door-opener, forcing Rachel to get out of the car. So he could shoot her. Why not just trip her in the bathtub, make it look like an accident? Because he wanted to ruin Alice, because she was Rachel's friend, her confidante, because she'd know he'd killed her, no matter how it hap
pened. So, he swiped her change purse, tossed it into his wife's blood and started Alice down this path of misery and lies, as if he'd known everything she'd do.

  Australia…

  Alice scooped up the SUV keys. It was all she wanted. A new life in Australia. Now Destin Wright was dead, Susanna Galway was out there in the snowstorm, her daughters had been kidnapped—Jesus, Beau, what were you thinking?

  Iris had out a cell phone, and Alice could hear her talking to the police.

  She stepped outside. She saw drops of blood in the snow, Sam Temple on the edge of the driveway with his weapon raised.

  Beau was up by the evergreen where he'd taken cover, marching the twins onto the snowshoe path he and Alice had taken. He had a gun to Maggie Galway's head, keeping her in front of him, and he hung on to Ellen Galway, shielding himself with her as he dragged her along, sobbing. Maggie was completely silent.

  Temple didn't have a clean shot, and Alice knew he wouldn't fire unless he did. He wouldn't risk killing one of the girls.

  She eased open the door to the SUV and slid behind the wheel, breathing in the new car smells. She pulled off her gloves and stuck the key in the ignition, her fingers stiff, frozen. The engine started, and she turned on the windshield wipers, watched them flap off the accumulated snow.

  Tears flowed down her frozen cheeks, searing them, streams of hot lava.

  Beau McGarrity had just shot one Texas Ranger and taken another Texas Ranger's daughters hostage, and she'd been a part of it. She hadn't stopped it.

  Nothing she did ever turned out right. There wasn't one thing more she could do except clear the hell out of there and not cause anymore trouble.

  Beau and the Galway girls disappeared into the storm.

  Before Sam could turn his SIG onto her, Alice hit the gas and got out of there.

  Twenty-One

  Jack stepped outside his emotions and listened to Sam Temple run down the facts, his voice steady, professional, but his eyes on fire. Blood dripped into the snow from his wounded leg. They were in the cabin driveway, the snow falling hard, the wind howling out on Blackwater Lake.

  Beau McGarrity had Maggie and Ellen.

  Susanna was missing, injured if Alice Parker was to be believed.

  Jack absorbed the situation piece by piece. Iris had called the police. They were on the way. She sat on the bench in the mud room, her shawl pulled over her thin shoulders. Her lips were a bluish purple. "I told them to send an ambulance." She raised her vivid green eyes to Jack. "This isn't Sam's fault. I never should have let Susanna go alone. The girls—they have minds of their own. Alice…I thought she was my friend."

  Sam was having none of it. "Screw that. I was supposed to protect your family. I didn't." He turned to Jack and handed him his SIG. "Go after McGarrity. I'll fill in the locals when they get here."

  Jack shoved the weapon into his waistband and squinted out at the snow, trying to concentrate on what he had to do right now, not the images in his head of his daughters being dragged through the woods at gun-point—of Susanna out on the lake alone, hurt. He glanced at Sam, who gave no sign he was in pain from his leg. "McGarrity went into the woods, not down to the lake?"

  Iris looked up from the bench, her lips trembling now. "Alice said he has a car at the Herrington house."

  "I was just there," Jack said. "I found her car, too, and checked out the teahouse on the lake. She'd obviously spent the night there." He took a breath, fought to stay focused. "Goddamn it."

  Sam hobbled into the mud room and grabbed a scarf off a peg, tied it around his bloody thigh. "McGarrity has an escape plan. He didn't come all the way up here to freeze to death in the woods."

  But Jack could see he was losing Iris, and he stepped inside and knelt in front of her, took both her cold hands into his. "Nothing will happen to Susanna or the girls. I won't let it."

  Her eyes were haunted. "That's what I said over sixty years ago."

  Jack stood up and shifted to Sam. "Get her inside where it's warm."

  But Sam's jaw tightened as he looked behind Jack. "Susanna. Jesus."

  Jack spun around, and Susanna fell into his arms.

  "Maggie and Ellen," she said. "Jack…he can't hurt them…don't let him…" Her left arm was bloodied and half-frozen, and she had scrapes on her face that he doubted she even felt. Her legs were caked with snow from the knees down. She clawed at his chest, alert, and he could see her willing herself not to lose control. "Destin's dead. His body's not far from here. I'll show the police."

  She wasn't showing anyone anything. One look at her, and they'd stick her in an ambulance. "The police are on their way. Tell them."

  Sam appeared at her side, taking her weight. "Come on, Susanna. You need to get warm. You won't be good to anyone with hypothermia."

  She gripped Jack's arm. "Find our babies, Jack. Maggie and Ellen—" Her eyes filled with tears. "My God, they haven't done anything…"

  Iris got up from the bench, her color better as she took her shawl and put it over her granddaughter. "You boys go on," she said. "I'll take care of Susanna. Honey, we need to get you out of these cold, wet clothes, okay? Alice has early stage hypothermia. I don't know how far she'll get before she collapses."

  "I should have shot her," Sam said.

  Iris cast him a look. "What good would that have done? She saved your life. She was unarmed."

  "She created a diversion for McGarrity." But he stopped himself, glancing at Jack. "You can beat the shit out of me later."

  Jack nodded. "Let's go."

  * * *

  Susanna placed her injured arm in the kitchen sink, which Gran had filled with lukewarm water and a heavy sprinkling of baking soda. She winced at the pain. "Just for a minute," Susanna told her as she tried to contain her impatience, her panic. "I don't think we have a lot of time before the police arrive."

  Gran nodded. "They'll stick you on a stretcher."

  Susanna shuddered at the thought of forced immobility. She'd put on dry pants and socks and was doing all she could to absorb the reality of the situation without letting it overwhelm her. If she did that, she'd be lost, useless, no help to her daughters. But she was so tired, her eyelids heavy and her mind sluggish as the warmth of the cabin penetrated, making her even sleepier.

  "I have to go after them," she said. "Jack and Sam can head him off at the Herrington place, and I can come in from behind." The warm water swirled over her cuts and frostbitten skin, but the pain cut through her fog. "In case he lied to Alice or went another direction, or got lost. I can follow their tracks—"

  Gran lifted Susanna's arm from the sink and laid it on a dish towel she'd opened on the counter. "If I die," she said, not looking at her granddaughter as she unwrapped gauze from the cabin's medical kit, "I would rather it be out here in these woods, today, searching for Maggie and Ellen than a year or two from now at home in my bed. I want you to know that, in case I'm not as up to hiking these woods in a snowstorm as I think I am."

  In the distance, Susanna heard sirens and fought to stem a fresh wave of useless, destructive panic. "Six million acres of wilderness, Gran. They could be anywhere."

  "They won't be," she said. "They're here on Blackwater Lake, and we can find them. Susanna, we can't wait. We don't have much time."

  She wasn't talking about the sirens and the impending arrival of police cars and ambulances. Susanna wrapped the towel around her arm, foregoing the gauze as she ran into the mud room, taking in Maggie and Ellen's boots, their gloves, their coats, their hats. All their warm clothes.

  They'd been in their rooms reading Jane Austen to each other.

  Susanna spun around at her grandmother. "Gran— Gran, they'll freeze out there—"

  She picked up Maggie's boots and thrust them at Susanna. "You two wear the same size. Hers are dry."

  Gran hurried back to the kitchen, throwing water and the medical kit into a hip pack while Susanna pulled on her dry winter gear. The snow hadn't let up. She grabbed Jack's new snowshoes and headed outsid
e, slipping them on easily with their spring-loaded bindings. Gran joined her, thrusting the hip back at her granddaughter and strapping on a pair of snowshoes.

  "Gran—"

  "I know these woods, Susanna. If I'm no help, I'll turn back. I won't slow you down." She tilted her wrinkled face to the sky. "Help us, Jared. Help us."

  * * *

  Jack drove. The roads were miserable. The plows and sanders hadn't yet reached this isolated north end of Blackwater Lake. He didn't know how fast a small town in the Adirondack wilderness could pull together local and state forces in the midst of a major snowstorm. He knew they'd do their damnedest to get it done as fast as possible.

  But he also knew it wouldn't be fast enough.

  Neither girl was wearing shoes. Sam had told him. Ellen had on fur-lined L.L. Bean slippers she'd made her mother buy just for this trip, and Maggie had on lime-green sequined slippers from the 1970s.

  "Socks?" Jack asked.

  "Ellen. Not Maggie. She's wearing pink satin ankle pants and a navy-blue lumberjack shirt. Ellen's wearing a black rugby jersey and leggings."

  Jack gripped the wheel. "They'll die of exposure if we don't find them soon."

  Sam stared straight ahead. "If I'd had a clean shot—"

  "You'd have taken it. Sam, my family—" Jack could feel the tension—the fear—in every muscle in his body. "They're not easy to protect."

  Sam said nothing, and Jack turned off the main road onto the rutted, barely maintained dirt road that led down to the Herrington place. It was a huge, lodge-style house, its windows boarded up, its porches sagging, its sprawling, sloping yard obviously overgrown, even with the deep snow. He followed the driveway to a parking area behind the house. Just up ahead, another narrower road—more of a lane—veered off toward the lake.