The Opposite of Dark
Page 24
“I’ll get help!” she shouted and sped away.
As Darcy and Theo fought, a woman and two toddlers approached a car on the lot’s east side. The woman saw the brawl, then picked up her kids and ran toward the ice rink.
Theo wasn’t holding his weapon. After a quick search, Casey found the gun on the ground, two stalls over. Why hadn’t he used it? And where the hell was Lalonde?
She left the tire iron by the bush, picked up the pistol, and watched the men cling to each other as they fell into the bushes and rolled onto the asphalt. Darcy’s glasses went flying. Theo knelt on his chest and struck his face while Darcy punched him in the abdomen. Theo gasped and recoiled. Darcy pushed him backward and started to stand, but Theo hauled him down again. Darcy swung at Theo who returned random punches.
Casey raised the gun. “For crying out loud, knock it off!”
The men slowed and finally collapsed. Darcy wheezed and coughed while Theo struggled to his feet. Sweat slid down his face. He stumbled toward the briefcases Rhonda had left behind while Darcy retrieved his glasses.
“Mother’s dead,” she announced.
Both men said nothing until she’d finished repeating Lalonde’s news.
“She wouldn’t have died,” Darcy said, “if she hadn’t wanted to protect you, bitch!”
Casey aimed the gun at his head. “Shut up!”
“You didn’t deserve her. You treated her like shit!”
Theo picked up a briefcase.
“Put it down!” Darcy reached for the tire iron Casey had left by the bush.
He flung the tire iron at her. Before she could move, the bar struck her arm and she dropped the pistol. Darcy lunged for it, but Casey kicked the weapon out of reach. Darcy grabbed the tire iron instead.
“Lil thought you were special.” He held the weapon like a raised bat. “Said you were the last decent person on earth, but she didn’t know the real you, did she, Casey?”
Casey stepped backward. Darcy moved closer. She turned to run, but the tire iron hit her back and she fell. As she tried to stand, Darcy tackled her to the ground. He climbed onto her back, wrapped his hands around her neck, and began to squeeze. She tried to pry his fingers loose but couldn’t, and then the pressure stopped. Casey’s forehead smacked the asphalt as she gulped down air. A moment later, Darcy was sliding off her back and slumping to the ground. Blood soaked the front of his shirt.
Casey looked up. Theo stood before her, holding the pistol. She nudged Darcy. No movement. She nudged him again. When there was still no response, she checked for a pulse on his wrist and neck.
“He’s dead.”
A man darted coming from the pool building toward his Toyota. A senior stood by the ice rink and talked on his cell phone while he watched them.
“Why didn’t you shoot when you had the chance?” Theo asked.
“Couldn’t.” Casey wiped the sweat off her face with the back of her hand. “Glad you did, though.”
“It was either your life or his.”
“Thank you.” She looked around. Where were the damn cops? They had to nab Theo. “I need to know something, Theo, and I want the truth. After Darcy killed Dad, how long was it before Gustaf moved in?”
He looked everywhere but at her.
“I heard it wasn’t long. A month maybe?” Casey went on. “You said you didn’t condone what Darcy did, yet you were planning to get rid of Dad, weren’t you? Let’s face it, a month isn’t long enough to undergo plastic surgery and perfect someone else’s voice and mannerisms.”
He shrugged, “Doesn’t matter now. It’s over.”
“The truth is important to me. Anyway, your key witnesses are dead, and it’d only be my word against yours.”
“Marcus was going to destroy me, but I didn’t want him to die. The plan was to let him change his identity and go underground, only Darcy grew impatient.”
Maybe he wasn’t the only one. Casey fought the urge to hit him. “You needed to know if I really had the address book, so you either ransacked my hotel room or paid someone to do it. Did you pay the American kid to steal my purse?” She didn’t bother waiting for a response. “I suppose I’m lucky you didn’t steal the book in Paris.”
“I wanted you to feel you could trust me.”
“All because you needed my help finding the money.” She glared at him. “I wish my parents had never met you.”
“That night in Paris, you said the more truths you learned, the darker things became,” Theo replied. “You must feel completely blind now.”
Police cruisers raced into the parking lot. Theo grabbed two briefcases and started running. Casey doubted he’d make it out of the complex.
Thirty-three
CASEY FOUND RHONDA’S station wagon parked in its usual spot at the house. There were no police vehicles anywhere, no hint of the day’s death and destruction. Sitting in her Tercel, Casey gently pressed the back of her hand against her face. Her skin felt hot, her body still weak from everything that had happened.
Thank god Theo had been caught only five minutes after he’d bolted. While she’d been giving the cops a detailed account of events, Lalonde showed up and apologized for having been delayed over a search warrant. Apparently, he’d arrived at the scene just as Rhonda was speeding out of the lot and decided to intercept her rather than stop Darcy because he’d been assured backup was there. It seemed there’d been a communication breakdown, however, and VPD officers actually had been sent to two serious traffic accidents, one of them fatal. An angry Lalonde had made it clear to the VPD officers that he’d expected better. After he told Casey that Summer was now at her grandmother’s, she headed for home. Poor Summer. She could well imagine how deep that child’s grief, confusion, and sense of helplessness must be.
Casey slogged up the back steps. Pressure encased her skull as if someone had placed a snug metal cap on her head and was tightening a clamp at each temple. Lalonde had said that bail for Rhonda was a possibility and that since she didn’t have an attorney, one would be provided for her. Given the backlog in Vancouver’s courts, her trial wouldn’t take place for months.
Casey stepped into a silent kitchen. Emptiness clawed her insides. When would Summer be back? If Rhonda went to prison, she wouldn’t want Summer living with Winifred’s strict rules. Tears blurred her vision and Casey felt thirteen years old again, sitting in the dining room as her mother left, unable to fix her family or even gather the courage to say goodbye.
Wiping her eyes, Casey headed upstairs and entered her apartment.
Her message machine’s light was blinking. Had Summer called? Was there news about Lou? Casey pressed the button and listened to Stan tell her that purse snatcher Karl Hawthorne had been arrested. “When the cops came to see his parents, the kid freaked out and confessed.” Stan gave her the names of the officers who wanted to speak with her.
Casey looked up the list of numbers by her landline phone. Rhonda had given her Winifred’s number in case of emergency. Winifred picked up on the second ring.
“This is Casey Holland. May I speak to Summer?”
“One moment,” Winifred replied, sounding none too pleased. On the occasions Casey had met Winifred, the woman was usually unhappy about something. This time she had good reason.
“Casey?” Summer’s quiet voice sounded weak and uncertain. “Grandma says I have to spend the night, but I want to come home tomorrow. Can you pick me up early? I’m not going to school.”
“Sure. Is there anything else I can do?”
“Get Mom out of jail.”
“I’ll do my best.” But then what? How would she deal with Rhonda, knowing that she’d killed the man she thought was Dad? At this moment, she couldn’t begin to process the conflicting emotions swirling around her head.
“Grandma says I have to go now. She needs to make some calls.” Summer started to cry. So did Casey.
Once she’d hung up, Casey retreated to her window seat. Like an evergreen covered with snow, she felt weighted d
own, cold and dormant. Tears slid down her face as she thought about her mother. The way Mother had talked this afternoon, it was as if she knew something might happen. Had she planned to drive off the road? Darcy’s anger could have prompted her to do something drastic. The Sea-to-Sky Highway was treacherous at high speeds. If a car had gone over an embankment, everyone would assume it was an accident. Mother must have known the police were closing in on Theo and her, too, perhaps. What sins had she committed for him and Darcy?
If she hadn’t been so cold to Mother, if she’d been able to let go of the past, things might have been different. But there was the blue sequined dress. And the sinking realization that even if Krueger hadn’t grabbed the bags from her, she would still have handed them in, no matter who’d worn the outfit.
Casey wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her chin on her knees. Had Lalonde told Rhonda about Mother’s accident? Would she rejoice? She wished she’d paid more attention to the signs . . . Rhonda’s eavesdropping on tenants’ conversations, how she’d searched Darcy’s belongings, and the hidden correspondence with Mother. No wonder Dad had distanced himself from her. He must have learned about her secretive, manipulative side that was so similar to Mother’s.
She’d missed other signs too. Greg’s adultery for one, and Lou’s feelings for her. Had denial, fear, and cowardice been that much easier to bear than the truth?
When the phone rang, Casey leapt up to answer it.
“Casey, it’s Barb. Good news—Lou’s doing much better. Doctors say he’ll make it.”
“Thank god.” She brushed away more tears.
“He wants to see you.”
“Really? Can I go now?”
“Absolutely.”
“Be right there.” Casey grabbed her purse.
Second chances didn’t happen every day. This time, she’d gather the courage to tell Lou how much she cared about him. Maybe even ask him out. If he wanted to go, she’d take him some place special, see what developed. There was hope, wasn’t there? Casey hurried out of her apartment.
DEBRA PURDY KONG has a diploma in criminology and has worked in security as a patrol and communications officer. She is the author of two other novels: Taxed to Death (1995) and Fatal Encryption (2008). Debra has also published over one hundred short stories, essays, and articles in publications that include Chicken Soup for the Bride’s Soul, Dandelion, NeWest Review, The Vancouver Sun, BC Parent Magazine, and several anthologies. She lives in Port Moody, British Columbia.Find Debra on Twitter at @DebraPurdyKong or her website at www.debrapurdykong.com.
Acknowledgements
WRITING MIGHT BE a solitary endeavor, but preparation for publishing and the publishing process are something else altogether. I’d like to thank those who read earlier drafts of this novel, especially Ellen Godfrey who saw the possibilities in protagonist Casey Holland ages ago. Also, a big thanks to editor Joyce Gram for her valuable input in a later draft, not to mention her encyclopedic knowledge of grammar and syntax. Where would I be without the incredibly helpful comments of the Kyle Center Writers’ group on all my writing projects, including future Casey novels?
Gratitude and a huge thank you go to Ruth Linka for taking a chance on this book, and for matching me with editor Frances Thorsen. Frances’s skill, enthusiasm, and insights were amazing. Last, but never least, love and special thanks to Bark, Elida, and Alex for putting up with my many retreats downstairs to slog through draft after draft. Without your support I wouldn’t have come this far.
To avoid confusion, please note that Violet Street in East Vancouver, Cedar Ridge Cemetery, Mainland Public Transport, and Alvin’s All-Canadian Café in Paris are fictitious. The hotel in Goathland is also my own creation.
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Copyright © 2011 Debra Purdy Kong
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written consent of the publisher or a licence from The Canadian Copyright Licensing Agency (access Copyright). For a copyright licence, visit www.accesscopyright.ca.
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Kong, Debra Purdy, 1955–
The Opposite of dark / Debra Purdy Kong.
Print formats: ISBN 978-1-926741-20-8 (bound).—ISBN 978-1-926741-21-5 (pbk.)
Electronic monograph in PDF format: ISBN 978-1-926741-38-3
Electronic monograph in HTML format: ISBN 978-1-926741-39-0
I. Title.
PS8571.O694O66 2011 C813'.54 C2010-906343-0
Editor: Frances Thorsen
Proofreader: Lenore Hietkamp
Cover image: Bus sign: Daniel Wildman, stck.xchng
Texture overlay: Dimitris Kritsotakis, stck.xchng
Author photo: Jerald Walliser
We gratefully acknowledge the financial support for our publishing activities from the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund, Canada Council for the Arts, and the province of British Columbia through the British Columbia Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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