The rocks were the key to the mystery of the salted production, the only way she could get rough diamonds without an explanation. They would prove or disprove the falsified production, and without proof she had no credibility. Kat rolled the rocks around in her hand, surprised at her good fortune.
She had to take them. It was the only way to get diamonds for testing. It wasn’t really stealing, she rationalized. Takahashi himself had said there was something funny going on, and now that he was dead, it was up to her to prove it.
Back in her car with the heater blasting, Kat deposited the rocks from Takahashi’s house on her passenger seat as she backed out of the driveway, careful to avoid the ditch on either side.
She followed the beam of her sole working headlight, tracking the road’s center line. Her wipers smeared across the windshield, leaving blurred sections on the glass where they had worn out. Why hadn’t she replaced her windshield wipers sooner? She was lucky there was no other traffic to worry about.
Ten minutes later, she had almost reached the main road when a vehicle came up behind her—traveling fast, judging by the headlights glaring in her rear view mirror. Kat braked, momentarily blinded, and adjusted the mirror.
Too fast for the weather.
But nowhere to pull over.
The lights came into view again as the vehicle closed in. A truck, judging by the height of the lights. And he was tailgating.
She sped up, trying to put at least breaking distance between the Celica and the truck. She glanced at her speedometer. Ten miles over the speed limit in bad weather conditions. Not ideal, but the main road with its streetlights was only a minute or two away. Then she’d pull over to the shoulder and let this idiot pass.
She turned her thoughts back to the diamonds. Why didn’t Takahashi test the diamonds if he had samples? Or had he? She picked them off the passenger seat and shoved them in her pocket.
Suddenly the Celica’s interior was illuminated like daylight. This idiot was going to rear-end her. She sped up again, but she could barely handle the curve of the road. She was twenty miles over the speed limit, and she could barely see ten feet in front of her.
She clutched the steering wheel, feeling her fingers tense around it as she concentrated on the road ahead, trying to anticipate the bends in an unfamiliar road.
The car’s interior went dark again.
Then the truck rammed her.
She hit the brakes with her foot but all four wheels locked as she felt the full force of the truck behind her. Her car skidded across the center line, turning sideways. She turned the steering wheel to right it but it was too late. As the Celica left the road, she saw the red taillights of a dark three-ton truck speed away.
23
The impact was explosive. Kat struggled to grasp what was happening. The car balanced precariously on the road’s shoulder, tilting towards the river. The driver’s side careened sickeningly; she lunged to the passenger side, still keeping her hands tight on the wheel. Panicking, she steered towards the dock, hoping to gain some ground and bring the car to a halt before it hit the water. It was no good.
Her stomach dropped as the Celica skidded on the damp wooden surface, spun sideways, and plummeted over the edge. Then, darkness. Nothing but black and the sound of water all around her as the car plunged into the icy waters of the river. The car floated momentarily and then began to sink as the engine pulled it down hood first into the silence of the murky water.
Kat strained against the seat belt, but the buckle was jammed. Water seeped into her left shoe as she continued to work the buckle to no avail. A sick feeling overcame her.
No one knew she was here. Would anyone find her in time? She tried to stop her mind from racing long enough to figure out what to do next. The cold water was already having an effect, numbing her hands and making it hard to manipulate the buckle. Her heart pounded in her chest as she realized her fate. She would succumb to the icy waters unless she could concentrate enough to think only of the buckle. She willed herself to stay calm, and tried the buckle one more time. Finally it released.
The water was almost up to her knees now. Kat struggled, trying to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge. She fought against the panic. Unless she could think clearly, she would never get out. The frigid water was paralyzing, making it hard to move her arms or legs. Her pants were wet, and it would be only a matter of minutes before the interior filled with water.
There was still air inside, but the water level was slowly rising. Now it was at waist level, the cold water slowly swallowing her. She kicked furiously at the side windows, but the water engulfing her made it impossible to get any power.
Suddenly she realized. There was more water on the outside, creating so much pressure against the inside that there was no way she would be able to kick it open. Unless the pressure was equal on the inside and outside. That wasn’t happening, because the inside was still partially filled with air. She would never be able to get the door open, unless she waited. She would have to wait until more water filled the car, and try again.
Kat moved to the back seat, now at a forty-five-degree angle to the water. The air pocket at the back would buy her some time, but only a few minutes at most. She wavered. She could end up trapped in the back of the car. Still, it was her only hope of eventually getting out.
The water had moved up to the top of the seats, and she had to strain her neck to stay above the waterline. The cold water enveloped her, making it almost impossible to expand her chest enough to breathe in.
In less than a minute the entire car would be submerged. She felt for the window control, but cursed silently as she suddenly realized: electric windows didn’t work in water. Maneuvering her body sideways, she chambered her leg for a sidekick against the window, but instead of strength she felt a cold numbness in her legs. She was too weak. As she struggled for a second attempt, she felt the finality of darkness envelop her as the last pocket of air was swallowed by the frigid waters.
24
Someone was calling. A voice, still faint, grew louder and closer. She focused on the light in the distance as it faded in and out. Pain coursed through her body as she tried to move towards it. It started from her head, running down her back and then her right leg, down to her toes like a jolt of electricity. Pain throbbed through every inch of her body. Pain? That meant she wasn’t dead after all. And if she wasn’t dead, where was she?
“Kat? Can you hear me?” The voice was closer now, and Kat slowly opened her eyes. Harry and Jace were bent over her, their faces drifting in and out of focus. She was lying on a bed with side rails in a drab grey room. The only other furniture she could see was a chair and a wheeled cart with plastic dishes on it.
“Where am I? What time is it?” A wave of nausea overcame her as she tried to sit up. Everything in the room was suddenly spinning and blurry. Her head pounded as she tried to refocus on Harry and Jace. She winced and dropped her head back onto the pillow. Now she remembered: the car crash, sinking into the icy waters of the Fraser River.
“You’re in the hospital, Kat. It’s ten-thirty, and the doc said you shouldn’t move yet.” Harry patted Kat’s arm gently. “Relax and go back to sleep. You’ll feel better.”
Ten-thirty? In the morning? Panic enveloped her. She needed to get the rocks to Cindy for analysis, and she had a ton of other work to do, like checking out Bancroft Richardson’s Lebanese connection. Porter’s hostile takeover bid also added a whole new dimension to the strange goings on at Liberty, and Nick’s deadline for getting the money back was looming.
No time to lose. She had to get out of this hospital pronto.
“I’ve really got to go. I’ve got work to do and I—”
“You’re not going anywhere, young lady.” Harry’s voice took on an admonishing tone. “Doc said at least another twenty-four hours before they would even consider releasing you. You’ve got a concussion, bruised ribs, and a lot of other cuts and scrapes. What happened anyway? Police said you fell asle
ep at the wheel. You remember anything from last night?”
“What? I didn’t fall asleep. Someone ran me off the road!” Kat was outraged. “I was driving along River Road when a big truck came up from behind and rammed me and then—”
“A truck hit you?” Harry asked.
“That’s what I said—a truck.”
“How could you tell it was a truck? Wasn’t it dark?”
“I saw it. Will you please just let me finish?” Kat searched for the control button on hospital bed with her right hand. She finally found it and pressed it so she could raise her head.
“Okay, okay. Carry on.”
“When I swerved, the car went out of control and into the river. The last thing I remember was being trapped inside my car as it was sinking.”
“Did you see the driver?” Harry asked.
“No. All I saw were the headlights in the rearview mirror.” She flashed back to the moment before the crash: the Celica’s interior momentarily lit by the truck’s headlights, then being trapped by her seatbelt as the car plunged off the dock. She shivered.
“You sure, Kat? The witness said no one else was there. The impact must have been from hitting the wharf before going in the water.”
“What witness? The truck driver?”
“Cab driver,” Jace said.
“There was no truck driver,” Harry said.
“You don’t believe me? I’m telling you, Uncle Harry, someone ran me off the road.” Kat’s voice rose in frustration. “You weren’t there—I was.”
“I don’t doubt that you think it happened, Kat. It’s easy to make mistakes when you’re tired.”
“I know what happened. You’ll see the proof on my car.”
“Well, your car’s in the river. The police aren’t even sure if they can pull it out.”
“You’re very lucky, Kat.” Jace interjected. “The cabbie was going the other way when he saw you leave the road.”
“But there was no one else there. No one.”
“He’s the one that called police. Said you were weaving all over the place, like you were drunk. That’s what they say about sleep deprivation. It’s just like drinking and dri—”
“I’m telling you guys—I was run off the road! It was a big truck, I don’t know how anyone could have missed it. Someone’s trying to kill me!” Kat bolted upright, and reversed just as quickly as another stab of pain assaulted her body.
“Sure, Kat,” Jace said. “Now lie back down.”
She felt her face flush with anger as she focused on Jace.
“You were right about Buddy. Someone’s trying to stop me from digging into things at Liberty. ”
“Maybe it’s time to quit, Kat. If someone really is chasing you, it’s not worth your personal safety.”
“I can’t. Not now, when I’m so close to finding Bryant and the money, and uncovering the fraud at Mystic Lake. I’ve got to get back to the office!” Kat came to the realization in horror. Anyone going to the trouble of running her off the road must know what she had discovered. That she was aware of the falsified production. They would go to any lengths to destroy both her and the evidence that incriminated them.
“Let me go, Kat. I’ll take care of it.” Harry was insistent.
“No, you don’t understand. I have to stop them before they destroy the paper trail.”
“Kat, you’re not leaving the hospital. The nurse and the doctor both said so. Let Harry go.” Jace wheeled the tray over her bed. “At least have some breakfast.”
“Okay,” Kat said. She recited off a list of files to Harry to retrieve along with her laptop. Asking anything of Harry beyond answering phones and filing was an invitation for disaster. On the other hand, no one but Harry would be able to find those files in his kooky filing system. Kat bit into her toast. It was soggy and cold.
Getting the money today was impossible while she was trapped in the hospital. Even if she were able to trace the Lebanese connection, the banks there would already be closed.
“This is unbelievable. I finally land a big account. Then when I start to make progress solving it, someone tries to kill me! My car’s a write-off. I have no money to get another one, which I desperately need, and now I’m being held prisoner in a hospital. The thief I’m chasing is probably destroying all the evidence right now, and no one believes me. And poor Buddy’s dead because of me. This is the worst day of my life!”
“It’s not the worst day of your life, Kat,” Jace said gently.
“It’s not?” Kat felt a faint glimmer of hope.
“No, it’s only the worst day of your life so far.”
“Jace, you’re not making me like you very much right now. That wasn’t very uplifting.”
“Kat, all I’m saying is that you never know what the future holds. Which reminds me—there’s another note.”
“Huh?”
Jace handed her a folded piece of paper.
“This was on the front porch.”
“I don’t want to see it.” Kat pushed his hand back as images of Buddy flashed through her head. Maybe Jace was right. Liberty wasn’t worth all this.
“Sorry. It’s different than Buddy’s note. Handwritten, feminine looking.”
Kat opened the paper slowly, still afraid to look. The handwriting was small and precise, but written with a shaky hand.
Mulch the roses, cover their feet. The mint is overpowering. I saw him do it.
“Saw who?” Kat asked. She hadn’t noticed any mint in the garden. Mint was invasive, but usually died back with the first frost. Definitely not something requiring immediate attention.
“I don’t know, Kat. I was hoping you might.”
She didn’t, and her head hurt. She felt the heaviness of sleep begin to overtake her once more. But not before she saw Jace bend over and kiss her on the forehead. It was the last thing she felt as she descended back into the deep slumber of unconsciousness.
25
Kat awoke with a start, the now familiar panic engulfing her. She tried to free her legs but couldn’t. Within a few seconds it all came back to her.
She shuddered: the car crash, the hospital, and the bed she was still lying in. Then she heaved a sigh of relief as she opened her eyes. Her feet were only trapped under the covers, not futilely kicking to break out the side window of her Celica. Beyond that, the last twenty-four hours were a blur.
Sunlight streamed in through the window and across the floor, catching specks of dust in its path and brightening the dull beige walls of the hospital ward. Voices and brisk footsteps drifted in from the hallway, the chatter of nurses discussing their weekends. Kat did a mental calculation. Monday night she was at Takahashi’s. It was morning again. That would make today Tuesday. Time was ticking away, and the sooner she got out of this place, the better. She eyed her bedside table. Her laptop was resting safely on top. Harry had delivered as promised.
She rolled over and stifled a groan as a spasm shot through her ribs. She opened the drawer, searching for her cell phone. It was there, along with some still damp receipts, her watch, and a handful of loose change. They must have been in her pockets when she was pulled from the car.
Suddenly she remembered. The diamonds! Where were they? Were they lost in the impact of the crash? If so, Takahashi’s diamonds were lost forever. Kat’s heart sank. The diamonds were her last chance. They must be in the river, along with her car and its contents, impossible to retrieve. How else could she possibly get some Liberty diamonds to test the authenticity? That was the only way she could ever prove her theory of the salted production.
She pressed her cell phone keypad. It was dead. The water had damaged it beyond repair. The phone could be replaced, but the diamonds could not.
Kat rolled her legs over the side of the bed and used her arms to push herself upright. She winced as pain coursed through her body. Her head throbbed as she rose to a standing position. She touched her forehead and felt a large bump. As she straightened, another twinge of pain caused her to
double over again. She felt like the walking wounded, and all she wanted to do was lie back down until the soreness subsided. But that wasn’t an option. She was running short on time and had to find some Liberty diamonds.
She shuffled around the room in her hospital issue gown and slippers, searching for the rest of her possessions. Where were her clothes? They had to be in the room somewhere. A jolt of pain stiffened her as she inched around the room, searching for any sign of her belongings. There was a small closet behind her bed she hadn’t noticed before. In it were the jeans and shirt she had been wearing when the accident occurred. She rifled through the pockets, hoping against hope to find the diamonds. Nothing.
No shoes either. So she was stuck in the hospital for a while longer, at least until she could get some footwear and gain back some mobility. Another shock of pain fired up her back as she eased back onto the bed, exhausted.
She powered up the laptop and logged into her email. She sifted through her inbox, deleting offers of free vacations, cheap prescriptions, and money from Nigerian bankers. The lone legitimate email was from Susan Sullivan at Liberty, dated yesterday. She opened it and froze as she read the message on the screen.
It stared right back at her—three black-and-white sentences that Kat’s services were no longer required.
What the hell was going on? Susan hadn’t mentioned anything about firing her at their last meeting. As a matter of fact, she’d confided in her about Nick. Surely this was a mistake. She would call Susan and get it straightened out.
She pulled herself upright again and got out of bed. As she stood, she did a mental check. The pain was tolerable as long as she moved slowly. She slipped on a pair of hospital slippers and padded down the hall, feeling like an inmate on the lam. She avoided eye contact with anyone in real shoes as she shuffled past the nurses’ station in her unflattering hospital gown. Luckily the nurses were still engrossed in conversation and didn’t notice her trudge past them. She had to find a pay phone.
[Katerina Carter 01.0] Exit Strategy Page 12