by John Rector
“What the fuck were you thinking coming here?”
“My daughter,” I said. “She—”
But before I could get it out, they jerked me toward the stairs, and the pain in my knee sucked the breath out of me.
“What’s wrong with you?”
I reached out and grabbed the railing beside the stairs and tried to catch my breath.
“My knee,” I said. “I can’t—”
The man with the box cutter shook his head and mumbled something under his breath then started back up the stairs.
The other one turned to me. He had a thin beard, scattered gray, and a curved white scar that ran along his upper lip toward the bottom of his nose. “Whatever’s wrong with you, figure it out quick.”
“My daughter is here,” I said. “I have to—”
“Your daughter?” The man stared at me, and something in his eyes changed. “You’re the one.”
“Pinnell told me she was here.”
“Did he now?” The man smiled and shook his head. “There’s no kid here, pal.”
“No.”
I pushed past him and braced myself against the railing and climbed the steps into the kitchen. I walked through to the living room then down the hall, checking doors as I went.
The men followed behind me.
I heard my own voice, far away, like a whisper, repeating the same word over and over. “No. No. No.”
I got to the end of the hall and felt a hand on my shoulder. When I turned, the guy who’d cut the tape from my hands was standing in front of me shaking his head.
“Not that one.” the lightwhs out of
“She has to be here,” I said. “He swore she was here. He knows we have his wife. He wouldn’t risk her.”
“What are you talking about?”
The man with the scar stepped in behind him and said, “He thinks his daughter is here.”
“She is here,” I said. “Where’s his wife? She’ll know, she’ll tell me.”
The man who cut the tape from my wrists looked past me toward the last door in the hall. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.
I turned and grabbed the handle.
The man pulled back on my shoulder, but I was too close, and there was no way I was going to let him stop m next to a gl
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I kept one hand pressed flat against the wall until my balance came back, then I reached down and opened the door.
The room was huge, lined with large floor-to-ceiling windows. There was a long dresser and mirror along one wall, and a king-size bed in the center, covered with several hand-stitched pillows.
Rose Pinnell was sitting on the end of the bed, watching me.
I crossed the room and stood in front of her.
She stared up at me, and for an instant I thought I saw her smile, more out of surprise than joy.
I knelt down in front of her and tried not to let the pain in my knee show on my face.
It didn’t work.
“Is she here?” I asked.
Rose reached out and touched my chin, moving my face first to the left, then to the right. “My husband did this to you?”
I nodded.
“And your leg?”
“That was me.”
She let her hand drop. “He takes things too far at times. It’s a flaw he could never overcome.” She paused. “Perhaps you’re the same way.”
“My daughter,” I said. “Where is she?”
Rose looked past me toward the hall and didn’t speak.
“Please,” I said. “You have to tell me.”
Before she could say anything, I heard a phone ring in the distance. Then there were footsteps.
I looked at Rose. “Please.”
This time when she smiled, there was light behind her eyes. She leaned in close. “I hid her away.” She took my hand and pressed something metal into my palm.
I looked down and saw a silver key.
“Don’t let them know she’s here.” She motioned toward the door. “I don’t want them to—”
The three men came into the room. They stopped in the doorway, waiting. I stood and moved to the side. Two of them took Rose, one on each arm, then the one with the scar said, “It’s time. We’ve got to move.”
Rose didn’t say anything, and she didn’t fight.
“Nothing happens to her,” I said. “We have a deal.”
They ignored me and walked her out of the room and down the hall toward the kitchen and the silver Lexus parked in the carport.
I followed.
Once they stepped outside, the man with the scar stopped and looked back at me. “I wouldn’t stick around if I were you.” He circled one finger in the air. “These neighbors, lots of eyes.”
I stood in the carport and watched them climb into the L_heo“How do you know that?”exus and back down the driveway. I waited until they’d pulled out onto the street before I opened my hand and looked down at the key.
I went through the house again, checking every door.
None of them were locked, and all the rooms I searched were empty. When I got back to the main bedroom, I sat on the edge of the bed and turned the key over in my hand.
It was silver, plain, and had no markings on it at all, not even a scratch.
I thought about getting up and searching the rooms again. I told myself I must’ve missed something—a closet or a door—but I knew I hadn’t. I’d gone through all the rooms, searched every corner, anyplace Anna could’ve fit.
She wasn’t there.
I leaned forward and held my head in my hands. I tried to retrace my steps, going back through each room in my mind—four bedrooms, three bathrooms, two living rooms, the cellar—trying to see if there was something I’d overlooked.
Then I opened my eyes and looked up at the ceiling.
I’d noticed it earlier, but I didn’t think anythgrabbed me, li
ing of it at the time. I stood and walked out of the bedroom, never taking my eyes off the ceiling.
“Come on,” I said. “Come on.”
I came around the corner into the hall and saw the keyhole in the center of the ceiling. It’d been painted over and didn’t stand out, but it was there.
I looked around for someton. The hallway was empty, so I went to the kitchen and grabbed a chair from the table and set it under the keyhole and climbed up.
PART V
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New development in local murder case
By Evelyn White (AP)
While investigating the shocking murder of a local philanthropist, police have uncovered what may be proof of the victim’s ties to organized crime, including several South American drug cartels.
Since the body of Roman Pinnell was discovered in the frozen lake outside the Bent Tree Gardens last month, investigators have been frantically searching for any clues as to why such a beloved local figure would be the victim of what appeared to be a senseless crime. But what they uncovered has turned grief into shock and rattled the tight-knit community of Pella Valley, where Pinnell spent the last 40 years.
Sources report that Pinnell, through multiple business dealings, can be linked to at least a dozen crimes, ranging from drug smuggling and corruption to extortion and murder.
Sources go on to say that in some cases there is enough evidence to not only implicate Pinnell, but also the Pella Valley Sheriff’s Department in the crimes.
I finished the rest of the article then dropped the paper on the cabinet and looked out across the empty room. The boxes were packed and lined up along the wall, ready to be moved. The furniture was gone, and the floors had been mopped clean, leaving behind the chemically sweet smell of artificial pine.
The eviction notice had come earlier that month. At first, I considered fighting it, but I dropped that idea as quickly as it’d come. Too much had changed, and I didn’t see a reason to stay, not anymore. At the time, it felt like the right decision, but now that the day had arrived, and I was left to face the empty rooms, I wonde
red if I’d made a mistake.
I thought about Beth and our first few the lightvo, then the one with the scar nights in the house, how we’d slept on an air mattress in the living room while we had waited for our new bed to arrive.
I remembered the two of us lying together, staring up at the ceiling, and talking about all the things we were going to do. Beth had loved the house and saw how beautiful it could be. I thought of the way she rolled over and leaned against my chest and looked up at me in that way she had of looking at me, and said, “You know, that back room would make a great nursery.”
The idea had been both terrifying and beautiful.
I don’t remember what I said, but whatever it was, it’d made her smile and kiss me and say, “Don’t worry, Matt. Someday.”
Someday.
I looked down at the wedding ring on my finger and slipped it off. I turned it over in my hand then put it in my pocket and reached for the newspaper.
I found the article I’d been reading and separated it from the rest of the paper. There was a photo of Roman Pinnell at the top, and I unfolded it and laid it out flat over the plastic base of the pet carrier.
I whistled.
I heard the small sound of claws on the living room floor. Then a tiny face peeked around the corner and stared at me.
“There you are.”
I reached down to pick him up.
The puppy turned and tried to scamper away, but his legs slipped under him, and he didn’t get far. I grabbed him and set him on the paper inside the carrier. As I did, he growled at me, showed teeth.
Exactly how it should be.
I’d bought a used Jeep earlier that month, and it was parked out front by the curb. It had a few too many miles on it, but it was still in good enough shape to get me where I needed to go.
I opened the passenger-side door and set the carrier on the floor in front of the seat. The puppy was whining, and I leaned in and made a soft clicking sound with my tongue and said, “Don’t worryh and let it s
41
I drove out of the city, through spring fields and horse pastures, then up into the hills. I followed the road through miles of trees and brush until it opened next to a perfectly still lake that unfurled like a sheet of silk, reflecting clear and blue under the morning sky.
When I got to the house, I turned in and followed the driveway up to the top of the hill and shut off the engine. I sat for a moment, not moving, trying to calm my nerves. Then I reached around and took the black polished cane from the backseat.
It’d been a gift from Murphy.
Since the surgery on my knee, I hadn’t needed it as much, but I kept it with me just the same, and I had no intention of giving it up.
I got out of the Jeep and walked around to the passenger door and took the puppy out of the carrier. I ran my hand over his back then started walking up the driveway toward the house.
The front door opened and Dorothy walked out. She came down the steps, meeting me halfway.
“You can’t just show up like this,” she said. “You have to follow the rules.”
“I’m not going to stay,” I said. “I just came to drop him off. I can’t take him with me.”
Dorothy looked down at the puppy and frowned. “Another terrier?”
I held him up. “He doesn’t like me very much.”
“What’s his name?”
“No idea,” I said. “Not up to me.” the light po“How do you know that?”
“He looks like a Benjamin.” Dorothy reached out and scratched him behind his ears and smiled. “Come on, she’s around back.”
We started walking up toward the side of the house, and neither of us said anything. I stared out at the trees, watching the way the sunlight shone green through the leaves and dripped warm and golden all around.
“How did it go with your friend?”
“The new bar opens next week.”
“So the job is yours?”
“He wants me to manage the place until I can pay him back. I don’t know what he’s thinking. I’ve never managed a bar in my life.”
“I’m sure you’ll do a fine job,” Dorothy said. “He obviously thinks you can. He must see something in you.”
I’d managed to convince Murphy and the Vogler brothers to let me work off the debt. I had to sign my life away to do it, and I had no illusions about how long it would take.
“I’ll be there for quite a while,” I said.
he opened the
“That’s wonderful, Matt, I’m happy to hear it.” She paused. “Once you’re settled, maybe we can talk about overnight visits.”
“Dorothy, I—”
“I’m not promising anything,” she said. “But if you’re stable, there’s no rea’t discuss it.”
I nodded, but I couldn’t think about that, not yet.
Up ahead, I heard Anna’s voice coming from behind the house. I stopped and looked down at the puppy. “Do you think she’ll like him?”
“Are you worried she won’t?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “He’s not Dash.”
“He doesn’t have to be Dash.”
“No, but those are big shoes to fill.” I held the puppy up and looked at him. “Dash was perfect.”
“He doesn’t have to be perfect, Matt. He just has to be hers.” Dorothy reached out and touched my arm. “She’ll love him.”
We walked around to the back of the house, and I saw Anna. Sson why we can
he was holding a plastic bubble wand and running through the grass, spinning in the sunlight, leaving a scattered trail of bright soap bubbles behind her.
She didn’t see me.
I looked over and saw Jerry sitting on the porch. He nodded, and I put a finger to my lips then bent and set the puppy on the ground.
He stared up at me and didn&#p>
“Go say hello,” I said.
The puppy looked from me to Anna. Then he saw the bubbles and started toward her. Slow at first, then faster, running up and racing around her, snapping at the air.
Anna stopped running and watched him spin around her. Then she dropped to her knees and patted her legs. The puppy jumped on her, licking her face as she laughed.
I stepped closer.
8217;t move.