The Kill
Page 34
CHAPTER
94
Abigale and Doug rode in the back of Lieutenant Mallory’s sheriff’s car. Smitty had gone in the kennel truck with the deputy to search the outbuildings at Dartmoor Glebe. She’d talked him into taking Duchess along.
They had just crossed over the bridge on Foxcroft Road and were slowly cruising along the banks of Goose Creek. The graying light that had guided them when they started out had been swallowed by darkness. Abigale’s eyes now tracked the beam of the searchlight from Mallory’s car as it sliced through the night.
“Stop! What’s that?” She perched forward on the vinyl seat and waved her hand to the left. “Back. And over a little.”
Mallory stomped on the brake and swung the light as she’d directed. The ugly root-ball of a fallen tree glared at them in the spotlight. Abigale sighed and flopped back against the seat, fighting a sense of hopelessness. They didn’t even know what they were looking for. Manning’s car? Uncle Richard’s truck and trailer? She could tell by the objects that Mallory was shining the light at that he was looking for something smaller. Bodies. But she refused to think about that.
Mallory shined the light at the rising waters. “The creek’s almost over its banks. We’re going to have to turn back soon. This road will be underwater before too long.”
Abigale shot a look at Doug. No, she mouthed. No way was she turning around. She’d get out and walk if she had to. The glow from the front dash caught Doug’s face and he nodded, indicating that he agreed with her.
“We’re almost past the low part of the road,” Doug said to Mallory. “It doesn’t make sense to turn back. Let’s keep following the creek. If the road floods so we can’t get back over the bridge we can turn up Snake Hill Road and go around that way.”
“All right,” Mallory agreed. “I’ll go as far as Snake Hill. Foxcroft Road angles away from Goose Creek at that point anyway.”
They continued the slow trek along the creek, stopping occasionally to focus the light on something that caught their attention. But nothing panned out. Abigale was beginning to wonder whether she had misinterpreted what Manning had tried to tell her.
Mallory threw a glance over his shoulder. “We’re almost to Snake Hill Road.”
Abigale twisted sideways in her seat and pressed her forehead to the glass. Mallory’s searchlight roamed slowly along the bank, sweeping across the debris tumbling downstream in the turbulent water.
“That’s it,” Mallory said, braking to a stop.
“Wait.” Abigale tapped on the glass. “Just…please…shine the light along here.”
Mallory let out a sigh. “Goose Creek angled off back there.” He danced the light across the dark water to the right front of the car. “This here is just a tributary that runs into the creek.”
“I know. Technically it’s not Goose Creek. But…still. Please.”
Mallory and Doug exchanged a glance. Mallory shined the light at the water, rotating it slowly in an arc. Nothing.
The dark seemed to fold in around Abigale and she slumped back against the seat. Mallory drew the beam back toward the road.
“Wait, what was that!” she said, gripping the armrest.
A glint of red winked through a tangle of brush just above the water’s edge. Mallory must have seen it, too. He shot the light down the bank.
Abigale tapped against the glass. “Look! It’s a car’s taillight.”
Mallory whipped the steering wheel around and nosed the car onto the bank so the headlights shined down toward the river. He jammed the gearshift into park and grabbed the searchlight off the dash. Abigale groped frantically for a door handle until she realized the rear doors weren’t operable from inside the sheriff’s car. As Mallory pulled on the outside handle, she shoved the door open and shot out of the backseat. She heard Doug scramble out behind her.
“Hold on,” Mallory said, grabbing her arm as she pushed past him. “Let me go first.”
Abigale twisted out of his grasp. The wind whipped through the trees and she leaned into it as a strong gust socked her in the chest, pelting her with rain. She fought her way through the brambles toward the embankment, ducking wet branches that slapped her face. Mallory and Doug crashed through the brush behind her.
The searchlight cast a shadowy path that flickered between the trees, shimmying across the dense undergrowth. Abigale felt elation and fear collide as the beam of light rested on Manning’s battered BMW. The car looked as if it was suspended mid-roll—overturned onto the driver’s side, halfway on its roof—wedged against a tree a few yards above the raging water. The tree trunk was all that prevented it from flipping over and plunging into the swollen creek. Abigale raced down the bank, grabbing at branches and tree trunks to steady herself.
“Stay back!” Mallory shouted as she neared the car. “I don’t like the way that thing’s leaning. It looks like it could go at any minute.”
Abigale glanced at him over her shoulder as her feet struck something with a muffled thwack, pitching her to her knees. She flung both arms forward to keep from sprawling flat on her face. Her palms smacked against the tough fabric of a waxed rain jacket. “Shine the light down here,” she cried, rocking back on her heels.
Mallory and Doug caught up with her, bathing the bank in the harsh beam of the searchlight. Oh God. Bile rose in Abigale’s throat as the light caught Thompson’s face. His mouth was open as if frozen in a look of disbelief, his head bent sideways at a nauseating angle. She jerked her hands back.
Doug dropped beside Abigale and gripped her shoulders, pulling her back from the body. But her eyes lingered. She’d seen dead people before—soldiers—and had struggled with witnessing loss of life. Emilio had never been able to understand how even the death of the insurgents had pulled at her heartstrings. But looking at Thompson’s battered face, his terror-stricken expression, Abigale felt nothing more than a hollow rush of satisfaction. She hoped he’d suffered some of the pain he’d inflicted on others.
Mallory crouched down and pressed his fingers to Thompson’s throat. A futile gesture, but still, Abigale waited for his nod of confirmation.
“Come on,” Doug said, tugging her to her feet.
The three of them hopped over Thompson and tramped through the thicket to the car. As the searchlight flashed against the rain-streaked glass, the back of a weathered hand tapped against the window.
“It’s Margaret,” Abigale said, dancing on her tiptoes and craning to see inside. “Can we get the door open?”
“I don’t think we can risk it, not with the way the car’s tilted,” Doug said, shouting to be heard as the wind whipped at his words. He looked at Mallory. “I think our best bet is to break the glass.”
“I agree,” Mallory said, handing the searchlight to Doug. He pulled a flashlight off his belt and shined it into the car. “It’s Lieutenant Mallory, Mrs. Southwell. I’m going to break the glass. Try to cover your face.”
Mallory hammered the butt end of the flashlight against the passenger window. Glass showered down into the car. The BMW rocked as someone moved inside and the roof screeched against the tree trunk. Abigale sucked in a breath, then released it slowly as the car held its position. If the car slid another foot down the bank, it would clear the tree and topple onto its roof like a domino.
Mallory flipped the light around and directed the beam into the car. “Are you injured, Mrs. Southwell?”
“I’m all right.” Margaret’s voice was weak. “I hurt my hip, is all. But I don’t know about Manning. He keeps slipping in and out of consciousness.”
“Okay. Just hold on. We’re going to get you both out of there.” Mallory backed away from the window. He squinted against the blowing rain at Abigale and Doug. “Do we risk trying to lift her out through the window?”
“What’s the alternative?” Doug asked.
Mallory shook his head. “I’m not sure we have one. Time’s not on our side.”
“We can’t wait for help. We have to get them out of there,�
� Abigale said.
“I agree.” Doug aimed the searchlight at the creek. “The car’s hanging by a thread and the water’s rising fast.”
Doug handed the searchlight to Abigale and she aimed it at the car door as she backed out of their way. He leaned over the window. “It’s Doug, Margaret. Lieutenant Mallory and I are going to lift you out through the window. Can you reach your seat belt buckle?”
“I think so,” Margaret said.
“Good. Don’t unbuckle it yet. Just let me know if you can reach it,” Doug said.
Abigale’s stomach clenched as the car groaned against the tree trunk. Doug jumped back and shouted, “Try to move around as little as possible, Margaret. The car’s in a precarious position. We don’t want to rock it more than we have to.”
“All right.” After a moment Margaret said, “Yes, I can reach it.”
Doug said, “Okay, good. I’ll tell you when to press the release button. Let us get a good hold on you first.”
“Okay,” Margaret replied.
Mallory moved closer to Doug. Both men spread their legs, searching for a good foothold, before reaching into the car.
“Can you reach an arm up around my neck?” Doug asked.
Abigale saw Margaret’s right arm snake through the window opening and grip the back of Doug’s neck.
“Ready?” Doug asked Mallory.
Mallory gave him a quick nod.
Doug said, “All right, Margaret. Release the seat belt buckle.”
Abigale saw both men shift their weight as they caught Margaret. Her other hand shot around Doug’s neck.
“Okay, hold on tight, all right?” Doug said. “We’re going to try to move you as smoothly as possible. If you need us to stop just say so.”
“Don’t imagine it can hurt any more than when Champ bucked me off and broke my pelvis,” Margaret said in a shaky voice. “Just go on and do what you need to do.”
Abigale’s fingernails bit into the palms of her hands. Dear, God, please don’t let the car slide toward the creek.
“Okay,” Doug said. “On three. One…two…three.”
Both men pulled back and Abigale heard Margaret cry out in pain.
“Almost there,” Doug said, scrambling to get an arm around Margaret’s waist as her upper body cleared the window.
The glare of the searchlight bounced off Margaret’s pale face. Her lips were caked with blood and an angry purple lump swelled across her forehead. Bits of glass from the broken window glistened in her hair. Abigale steadied the beam to guide Doug and Mallory as they slid Margaret free and lowered her to the ground several yards up the bank. Doug whipped off his rain jacket and spread it over her.
“We’re going back for Manning,” Doug said, trading Mallory’s flashlight for the searchlight Abigale was holding.
Abigale tucked the flashlight under her arm and crouched next to Margaret. She knew it was up to Doug and Mallory to get Manning out. She wasn’t tall enough to see inside the car, let alone lift Manning. Still…
She shot a glance over her shoulder as she reached for Margaret’s hand. Doug was leaning into the car while Mallory shined the searchlight inside.
“They’ll get Manning out,” Abigale said, with more conviction than she felt.
“Thompson wanted to drown us in the creek,” Margaret said hoarsely. “He forced whisky down Manning’s throat, planned to make it look like a drunk-driving accident.” She squeezed Abigale’s hand. “Go to him, Abigale. Go help them get Manning out of the car.”
Abigale twisted around. Doug was no longer leaning in the car. Both men just stared grimly at the vehicle, as if assessing what to do. Mallory said something and Doug shook his head.
Margaret waved her away. “Go.”
Abigale jumped up and ran back to the car. “What’s going on?”
“I can’t reach Manning,” Doug said. “And I’m afraid if I put more weight against the car to lean further inside I’ll cause it to slide down the bank.”
“Is Manning conscious?” Abigale asked.
“Not really. He’s stirring, but he’s not saying anything coherent.”
Abigale stared at the car. “So what are we going to do?”
“I’ll radio for help,” Mallory said.
“We can’t just stand here and wait for help to arrive,” Abigale said. She jabbed an arm at the creek. “The water’s rising too fast. You said so yourself. We’re running out of time.”
“Abigale’s right,” Doug said. “Who knows how long it will take for help to arrive, or whether they can even reach us with the flooded roads.”
“At this point, it’s our only option,” Mallory said.
Rage ripped through Abigale. She would not stand by and do nothing. “No, it’s not.”
Mallory stared at her, his jaw thrust forward stubbornly. “What do you suggest?”
“I weigh less than either of you,” she said. “Lower me into the car.”
“What good would that do?” Mallory asked.
“I can see if he’s injured. Unbuckle his seat belt so you can pull him out.”
Mallory shook his head. “I can’t risk letting a civilian put herself in danger.”
“But you’ll risk letting Manning drown inside the car?” Abigale shot back.
Doug put a calming hand on her arm. “Let’s give it a try,” he said to Mallory. “If the car starts to slide, we’ll pull her back out.”
Mallory regarded them through narrowed eyes. He blew out a loud sigh. “All right. I don’t like it, but I’ll go along with it.”
They boosted Abigale through the passenger window. She tensed with each movement, fearing the car’s downward shift as they eased her into the cramped space. She heard Doug say something, but the rain hammering against the roof made it impossible to decipher.
“That’s far enough,” she called over her shoulder. The forward motion stopped, but Doug and Mallory each clamped an iron grip on her legs.
Manning’s eyes were closed, but he winced and muttered something as the searchlight hit him square in the face. A gash beneath his ear oozed blood down his neck. An egg-sized knot on his left cheek swelled into a bluish halo beneath his left eye. The driver’s window was open, and his left shoulder and the side of his head were smeared with mud.
Abigale gently shook his shoulder. “Manning. Can you hear me?”
His right eye opened to a slit and he squinted at her. “Abby?”
Abigale’s eyes filled. She smiled at him. “Yes, it’s me. Doug and Mallory are with me. We’re going to get you out of here.”
Manning shifted in the seat and the car pitched to the left.
“Watch it!” Doug yelled.
“Hold still, Manning,” Abigale warned.
He opened both eyes, then flung his arm across his face to block out the searchlight. “What the—”
Abigale gripped his shoulder. “Manning, listen to me. The slightest movement could send the car down the bank into the creek. We’re going to get you out, but you need to move very slowly, okay?”
He nodded, but Abigale saw confusion cloud his gaze. She wondered whether he had a concussion or if it was from the alcohol. Either way, she wasn’t sure he’d be able to lend much help. “I’m going to unbuckle your seat belt. You need to brace yourself so you don’t drop when it releases.”
A moan hissed through Manning’s lips as he groped for the steering wheel with his right arm. He drew in a sharp breath and flexed his hand.
“That’s your broken arm. Use your left hand,” Abigale said.
Manning’s right arm fell back to his lap. He fumbled along the open window with his left hand and gripped the door jamb.
“Okay, good.” She wiggled her fingers between the seat and the middle console and found the seat belt latch. “Here goes.”
Abigale pressed the mechanism, but the catch didn’t release. She punched the button again. It didn’t budge. Frustration gripped her chest as she jabbed at it furiously. Damn it!
“What
’s the matter?” Manning asked.
“I can’t get the seat belt unbuckled. The release mechanism feels like it’s jammed.”
Manning glanced down at the seat belt. His eyes seemed clearer, more focused. “Cut it. There’s a Swiss Army knife in the glove box.”
Abigale searched beneath the deflated air bag for the latch and popped open the door to the glove compartment. She fumbled through loose papers and some CD cases, until her fingers closed around the cold steel of the knife. She flipped open the blade and held it against the shoulder-harness portion of the seat belt near the buckle, angled away from Manning.
“Ready?” Abigale asked.
Manning’s eyes leveled at her. She saw beads of sweat on his upper lip. He nodded.
The blade sliced through the webbing with a whoosh, and Abigale jerked the blade back as the belt released its hold on Manning. He dropped down, thudding against the door frame near the ceiling. Abigale held her breath as the car shuddered beneath her. Metal screeched as the roof scraped along the tree trunk, and Abigale felt strong hands yank her away.
“No!” she screamed, grabbing at the door as they pulled her from the car.
Doug wrapped his arms around her and jerked her away from the car as it broke free from the tree and smashed onto its roof.
“Oh, my God. Do something!” Abigale shrieked as the BMW shot down the bank. It plunged into the creek like the log plume ride at an amusement park. She thrashed against Doug’s grasp. “Let me go! We have to get him out of the car.”
Doug tightened his hold on her. “We’ll never reach the car in time. It would be suicide to go after him.”
Mallory swung the searchlight at the water, and Abigale’s body went numb as she watched the swift current suck the car toward the center of the creek. It seemed to happen in slow motion, yet it couldn’t have taken more than a matter of seconds before the car was swept downstream, its rear wheels bobbing in the swirling water.
“I’m sorry,” Doug murmured, letting her slip out of his arms.
Abigale clutched her arms to her chest, hot tears pouring down her rain-streaked cheeks. Her vision tunneled around the BMW until it vanished from sight and Mallory pulled the light away. She felt paralyzed for a moment, trapped in her own skin. The drum of rain on soggy earth, the wind whistling through naked trees, was suddenly hushed, as if someone had lowered the volume. She half stumbled, half slid down the bank to the water’s edge.