by PJ Adams
He nodded.
“You’ve got to win me all over again, Denny McGowan. You think you can do that?”
He took a single step closer, reached up, put a hand to her cheek – that soft, delicate touch again!
His lips were firm, pressing, but he was holding back, bottling up that animal need that was bubbling away inside them both.
“I do,” he said. “I don’t want anything else.”
§
She climbed into the station wagon and Denny into the Lexus. They backed out of their spaces and he tucked in behind her on the highway, synchronized like geese flying in formation.
She felt good. She felt excited. And God but she felt hot!
She glanced in the rearview mirror and he was still there. She couldn’t see where his eyes were fixed, but she liked the thought that they were fixed on the back of her head while his mind was probably fixed on some other part of her body entirely.
She squeezed her thighs together, flexing the muscles, enjoying that tightening.
How had he managed to turn her on so much over coffee?
She glanced at the mirror again and the Lexus wasn’t there.
She slammed on the brakes and came to a halt in the roadside dirt. Twisting, she looked back along the highway and saw – some distance back – a blue sedan pulled over, the Lexus behind it.
Someone had forced him off the highway!
She hit reverse and accelerated, wheels spinning. A tug of the wheel and the station wagon slewed round one-eighty until she was facing back the way she’d come.
Two guys, at the Lexus driver’s door, reaching in, hauling Denny out.
Al and Luis. It must be Brady Lowe’s two henchmen.
Had they tapped Sally’s phone? Had they been watching Cassie, confident that she’d hook up with Denny again before long?
She hit the gas again, back on the highway.
As she came close, the two men looked up, and then they bundled Denny into the back of their car.
She hadn’t thought any further than this. She’d just acted on impulse, driven back to Denny’s rescue.
But now: the blue sedan loomed close, Luis pinning Denny down in the back while Al scurried round to the driver’s seat.
Hit it full-on and what would happen? Would Denny be okay? Would she?
She swerved at the last moment and the tail of the station wagon clipped the front wing with a sickening crunch of metal. She lost grip on the steering wheel and lurched forward, and in that instant realized she hadn’t strapped herself in. The station wagon skidded sideways and then there was a loud bang and she was knocked back in her seat as the airbag inflated.
The wind knocked out of her, she sat there, frozen and stunned. It was as if she’d forgotten how to drag air back into her lungs, as if they’d just stopped working. Her vision darkened and she thought she was going to pass out, then she gasped, sucked, and air filled her lungs.
She started to cough, the air filled with powder and a smoky smell from the airbag. She pushed the door open, pushed at the airbag so she could wriggle sideways and then she tumbled out into the dirt.
Her breath sore and ragged, she could breathe now, and she gasped and sobbed until her breathing started to calm itself.
Her mind had blanked. Everything gone apart from that desperate need for air.
Now it all came back.
On her hands and knees she peered back across the highway and the black Lexus convertible was sitting there, driver’s door half-open, engine running, empty.
There was no sign of the blue sedan. No sign of Denny, or Al and Luis.
Gone.
§
She climbed to her feet, stabbing pains in her chest and a dull ache across her face. Had the airbag broken her ribs?
She couldn’t call Marshall, or anyone else. Her cell phone was back in the cabin in Maine. She still hadn’t been back to collect her things and it hadn’t been worth getting a new one if she was going to go back there for her stuff.
She took a deep breath and held it, fighting to calm herself.
She couldn’t phone. She couldn’t just wait here and flag down traffic. People would see there had been an accident. They’d see the abandoned Lexus and work out something strange was going on. And how would she explain all this to the cops?
She would have to drive back to Saco Cabins and get Marshall and Sally to help.
And she would have to work out what in Hell’s name she was going to do next.
She looked both ways, but there was no traffic, no sign of the blue sedan.
She looked at the station wagon, where it had spun off the road. The airbag had slumped now, mostly deflated. Could she free it up enough to drive? Could you even drive an automobile after the airbag has gone off?
She swung the door shut, and crossed the highway to the abandoned Lexus.
Why did it feel wrong to be taking Denny’s car?
She swung into the driver’s seat, pulled the door shut and put it into drive, her body hurting with every movement.
§
“The station wagon... I just left it there.” Why was she so hung up on the station wagon when they’d snatched Denny? Distracting herself with details so she didn’t have to think...
“Forget about that,” said Sally, leaning forward to hold Cassie’s hands across the big kitchen table. “Marshall will take care of that, okay? We need to get you looked at. You got some nasty bruises on your face and I can see how much your ribs are hurting every time you try to move.”
“I’m fine. Really, I am. But they took Denny...”
“If they’d wanted to kill him,” said Marshall, standing over in the doorway, “they could have killed him right there. Clean shot into the car and a quick getaway. An’ if they was worried someone might drive by and interrupt them killin’ him, then they’d have taken him someplace quiet to do it. I hate to be so blunt, Cass, but they’s plenty of quiet places here in the National Forest. They could have taken him some place quiet real quick, so if that was their plan then there isn’t going to be much hope for him now.”
“Which leaves the third option,” said Sally. “They snatched him and bundled him into the back of their car because they were taking him somewhere. If that’s the case then they’ve got him alive, wherever they went with him.”
“So what do we do?” said Cassie.
“Nine one one,” said Sally. “Give it to the professionals.”
Marshall snorted, then looked down at his feet when Sally glared at him.
“So we tell the cops someone’s kidnapped a guy who’s almost certainly on the wrong side of the law, and has got caught up in some kind of swindlers’ dispute,” said Cassie.
“He’s a missing person just like any other missing person,” said Sally. “Only in his case you saw him being taken. They got to treat it seriously. It’s the best thing. The cops will take care of it, isn’t that right, Marshall?”
The big guy shrugged, looking awkward. “I guess I have bad memories of dealin’ with the cops,” he said. “Back when I was young and wild. Guess they’re the best thing in this case, though, jus’ like Sally says.” He was doing his best, but Marshall wasn’t cut from the mold of people who handed their problems over like that.
But what else could she do?
“I’ll run you back to pick up the station wagon,” Cassie said.
“Don’t you be foolish,” said Sally. “You’ve had a shock and you’ve been hurt. I’ll run Marshall over there to pick it up when we’re good and ready, you hear? First we need to get you sorted and get the cops on this.”
Cassie was adamant. “No,” she said. “It was me abandoned it. Let me feel at least there’s something I can do, Sally. Okay?”
Sally wasn’t happy with it, but Marshall was already halfway out of the kitchen door and heading for where Cassie had parked the Lexus a few minutes earlier.
“I’ll go,” said Cassie. “I’ll be fine, Sally.”
“You take care,” said
Sally, and with those words she made it clear she knew Cassie was up to something.
§
Back out along the Crawford Notch Road, Marshall and Cassie barely spoke a word. They didn’t need to. Marshall knew, too.
They came to the abandoned station wagon, and Cassie was relieved to see that nobody was there. It could have been reported already, for all she knew, but at least there weren’t cops sniffing around or a tow-truck to deal with.
Marshall climbed out and did a slow circuit around the vehicle, kicking at the tires and pulling at the dented bodywork. Then he leaned inside and poked around at the airbag, which had deflated like a used condom over the steering wheel.
Cassie waited in the Lexus, engine still running.
“I’m really sorry, Marshall,” she said. “I’ll cover repairs.” She still had Denny’s roll of hundred dollar bills back in her room, untouched.
“It’s nothin’,” he said. “Just a few scratches is all.”
“You think it’s still drivable?”
“No problem,” he said. “I’ll just unplug that airbag an’ it’ll be fine.”
“You sure?”
He nodded. “I am. Now you be on your way, Cassie. You’ve got business to deal with, haven’t you?”
“Thanks, Marshall. You take care of Sally, okay?”
5
She drove. Out through Conway and Bridgton and on until she hit the I95, and then she headed north and east up into coastal Maine. She’d never been a fast driver before but that Lexus had some speed in it. Just had to be careful she wasn’t pulled over.
She put the radio on loud in an effort to drown out her thoughts. She couldn’t bring herself to think any more about what had happened, or what she was going to have to do to put it right.
It was too much.
Way too much for her to deal with right now.
In not much over two hours she was back on the coast road, heading north. A mile before Pappy’s Lobster Bar she swung a left into a gap in the trees that was easy to miss if you didn’t know it was there. The gap became a rough track, not much wider than the Lexus and she had to slow right down to negotiate the ridges and potholes without grounding. The guy’s been kidnapped: last thing he wants is for her to trash his car, too.
She pulled up in front of her cabin and cut the engine. The place was little more than a shack, with wood-panel walls and a tin roof that sounded like a snare drum in even the slightest of rain.
Out in the open air she paused. Listened to the wind rippling through the trees, the cawing of some crows in the treetops. Nothing else.
The front door was shut, the windows either side of it intact. The ground was wet mud in front of the cabin, soft from the rain. No footprints or tire marks, and no other signs of disturbance.
Since when had her life become like this?
Checking her own home for danger before daring enter?
Since Denny McGowan had walked into her life is since when.
She went to the door, wincing at a stab of pain from her ribs. She fumbled with the lock, opened the door and stepped inside and everything was as she’d left it.
In the one bedroom there was a cabinet by the bed, and in that a small wooden box.
She took it out, put it on the bed, sat and opened it. A few photos of her mom. A sapphire ring that was something in the family, but Cassie had never paid attention to the story then and now it was way, way too late. A lock of her mother’s hair.
And the letter. The one Billy Ray had sent her just before he was released from jail.
So Cassandra. I’m sorry. I’d do it differently. I’ll be out soon. I’d like to meet up someplace and get to know you. I’d like you to find it in yourself to get to know me. I’ve changed. Jail does that to a guy. Just give me a chance.
She’d read that paragraph over and over, but she’d never allowed herself to believe it. She’d been let down far too many times, by Billy and by others. He’d had his chances, back when Mom had still been alive and before he’d been put in jail. She owed him nothing.
But Billy... Billy owed her big time.
Her cell phone was dead, but it came to life when she plugged it in to charge.
There was a number on that letter. Three years old now, but it was all she had.
She keyed that number now, then pressed ‘Call’.
§
He picked up on two, his voice unmistakable even after all these years.
“Yeah?” he said. “Who’s this?”
Nice.
“Cassandra.” Play it cool, keep things simple, keep on top of all the emotions, all the anger and resentment and desperation.
Silence. Then: “Cassandra? That really you? You called me. I–”
“I need your help.”
Another pause. She wondered what was in his head. Hopes raised when he realized she’d called, thinking he’d won her over; then dashed, or at least put on hold, as he detected the tightness in her voice, the abruptness of her tone.
“You got it,” he said. “What do you need? What’s the matter?”
“Call Brady Lowe off,” she said. “He’s taken Denny and I don’t know what he’s going to do, but you have to make him stop. You...” She forced herself to slow down. Those first words had been like water bursting from a fault in a dam. She couldn’t let it all out. Not right now.
“Cassandra,” he said. “What do you want me to do? Brady’s a lunatic. What kind of sway do you think I have over a madman like Brady?”
“You used him,” she said. “You used him to get to me. You turned him against Denny. You have to do something.”
“But what can I do?”
“That’s not Billy Ray Dane talking,” she said. “Billy Ray Dane would never ask what he could do. he could always do something. He could dance circles round anyone he wanted to. He was never afraid of a fight.”
“You say he has Denny McGowan? I never did like Denny. I think I told him that.”
“I never did like you or the way you were,” said Cassie, “but we have to move on from that, okay? I’m a grown woman. I make my choices. Denny’s in danger and we need to help him. You think this is easy for me?”
“Can we meet, sometime?”
“Are you really trying to extract a price from me?”
“No,” he said. “It’s just... This is the first time we’ve spoken in close to ten years. I have a lot of ground to make up. I’d like to meet you. I’d like to get to know you, Cassandra.”
“That’s not part of this conversation,” she said, her words tight. They had to stay focused. This was about Denny, not her and Billy.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“You going to do something?”
“I know where Brady will have him,” he said. “Place called Little Maldon, up past Portland on the coast. Brady has a family place up there. It’s the only asset he has left, although he’ll be losing that soon, too. You leave it to me, you hear? I’ll take care of it.”
“I’m on my way already.” And she was. Outside again, the cabin door left swinging, and then she was in the Lexus and firing it up.
“Don’t do anything stupid, Cassandra. Brady’s a madman and the guys he’s with–”
“Al and Luis?”
Another slight pause, then: “Yeah. Al and Luis. They’re old school. They’re hired guns and they don’t mess around.”
“I’ll be careful.”
“I’m on my way,” he said. “I’ll deal with this, you hear me?”
6
She found the road to Little Maldon, following the signs down a single-track trail as darkness was falling, and wondering just how in Hell she was going to find Brady’s place. And what if Billy had been wrong? Brady could have Denny just about anywhere.
If Denny was still alive at all.
She shut that thought out. Remembered Marshall’s logic: if they’d wanted Denny dead then there was nothing anyone could do. All she could do was operate on the chance he was still alive somewhe
re. She couldn’t allow herself to think any other way.
For once, luck was running her way. Little Maldon lived up to its name, a small settlement of maybe half a dozen houses lined up around a small bay. Vacation homes for wealthy families from Boston, she guessed, and right now at the tail end of fall, only one of them had any lights showing.
She slowed to a crawl, and cut to parking lights only. Barely enough to light the way, but it seemed smarter than full headlights right now, in case anyone was looking. Less eyecatching.
The road ran along behind the row of houses, each enclosed with a high wall and iron gates. When she came to the one with lights showing, she paused, idling the engine. The houses were cut into the hill here, so they looked single-story from this side, although she’d seen from the approach that they were at least two-story from the bay. Out back of this house there were two automobiles, a sleek black Mercedes and a blue sedan that looked just like the blue sedan that had forced Denny off the road back in the White Mountains.
They were here!
She drove on past, keeping slow as the parking lights didn’t help much. Safely out of sight, she switched to headlights again and almost immediately spotted a track down to the bay. She pulled over and climbed out, stretching her aching body, sore after so much driving.
What was she going to do?
She really didn’t know. She had no idead what she was going to find. Best case, and Denny would have worked his slippery charm and the two old buddies would have cracked a beer or two over old times.
She knew, though, that best case was about as likely as Hell opening up for the ski season this year.
Please, Denny: be alive for me!
She’d reason with Brady. She’d plead. She’d tell him she had Billy Ray’s backing and they would find some way to work things out.
She’d do whatever it took...
She followed the track between two lines of high brick wall, and emerged at one end of the bay. Looking back along the curve of the beach, a couple of hundred yards away she could see Brady’s family house. There were a couple of lights on in upstairs rooms, but the brightest light came from a wide set of windows on the ground floor. That place must have one Hell of a view out over the water in daylight.