Twilight

by Kristen Heitzmann

  Luke stirred behind him, and he turned. The child muttered, then settled in and continued to sleep. Cal closed the stove doors and filled the coffeepot with water from the jug. He scooped coffee grounds into the percolator attachment and stood it inside, then put the pot on the burner to heat. He filled his cupped palm with cold water from the bottle and rubbed it over his face.

  No hint of screams lingered in the room. No tint of orange. Only the faint wood smoke, and it didn’t haunt him. This was progress. This was definitely progress. Rita would be proud. But what would she think of the rest?

  Hey, he could always plead insanity. So he ran off with someone’s kids. Fallout. Failure to debrief. But imagining they were his, now there’s the plum Rita would pick. What is it, Cal? A latent desire to put yourself in Brian’s place? Oh, not latent, Dr. James. See I was there first. He’s the one who didn’t belong.

  Cal shook his head. He hated it when his brain did this. Hyperdrive. Why was he even thinking of life with Laurie? She was so messed up she made him look good. She used people, sucked them dry, and left them. She had misled him, let him make a fool of himself all over again. Then told him to get lost.

  So why was he here with her children, eluding the law and playing Davy Crockett? He thought of the old Disney film. “When I know what’s right I just go straight ahead.” Or something like that. The trouble was, Cal didn’t know what was right. That was Reggie’s department. Was this the lightning bolt Reggie expected he’d need? Cal thought about praying, then shook his head. It would take a bigger bolt than this.

  The coffee was bubbling up in the pot. He lifted it from the burner with a soiled towel and poured a Styrofoam cupful.

  16

  THE WISH TO PRAY IS A PRAYER IN

  ITSELF … GOD CAN ASK NO MORE THAN THAT OF US.

  Georges Bernanos

  LAURIE WORRIED THE ROPE that held her arms behind her back. If they’d been so quick to kill Brian, why hadn’t they shot her by now? She was the one who’d interfered. She glared at the Latino, Luìs. She had caught his name when Dieter had ordered him to watch her. As though she could do anything tied up.

  Where had Dieter gone? To find the children? Please no. She could bear anything but that. Please let Cal have them somewhere safe, her thoughts begged. Begged whom? She looked around the splintering barn walls. Who would look for her here?

  Who would look for her anywhere? Cal? She hoped and prayed not. Prayed. Did she pray? These begging thoughts, these fervent wishes … were they, as Grams said, pleas to the Almighty? Was there a God, a Jesus who loved her?

  She had believed it once, put her faith into simple words, and made Him her Lord. But she was so small, maybe eight, maybe nine, a child pleasing Grams, whom she loved more than anyone. It had never become more than that, never steered her path. Who was she to expect anything from God now?

  But there it was, a small feeling, a tiny comfort. You’re not alone. You’re never alone. She thought the words. It was her own thoughts, her own wishful thoughts. How she wished she could think away the fear.

  Destroying the cocaine had been a knee-jerk reaction, a way to pay Brian back for ignoring her objections. She’d never considered the cost. She didn’t even know how much the cocaine was worth. All she knew was that Dieter would not accept any more excuses.

  Luìs was looking at her with narrowed eyes. She felt naked and vulnerable. What would they do to her? How much could she bear? Torture? Rape? Maybe they would just kill her.

  Cal took the children to the outhouse early, prepared with flashlight in the dim morning daylight. Maddie had a little skip to every other step and wiggled her fingers in the air. Luke all but plodded. This whole situation might be going over Maddie’s head, but Luke was uneasy. What had Laurie told them? How much did he guess?

  After they’d all made use of the latrine, Cal got them washed, as well as he could with cold bottled water, and had just poured out bowls of cornflakes when Mildred arrived in Ray’s bomb. For a moment Cal thought she would come right through the porch. But she stomped the brakes and lurched to a stop.

  He left the kids at the table and stepped outside. “Good morning, Mildred.”

  “No, it’s not.” She climbed out, pulling with her a full paper bag, and shut the car door with her hip.

  “What’s up?” Cal hoped it was her normal grumpiness, but her manner was just agitated enough to indicate more.

  As she approached, Cal caught a glimpse of a yellow-and-green Crayola box and coloring books. “How’s Cissy?”

  “Home worried sick.”

  “I thought we weren’t telling her.”

  Mildred mounted the stairs. “Sergeant Danson made it necessary.”

  Cal dropped a hip against the wall. “How?”

  “He’s issued a warrant for your arrest.”

  “What’s the charge?”

  Mildred refastened her grip on the bag. “For starters, homicide. But he also suspects Laurie’s abduction and the kidnapping of her children.”

  Cal’s chin dropped to his chest. “You told him I didn’t have it in me?”

  “I told him he was off his nut.”

  Cal raised his eyes.

  Mildred shrugged. “In the meantime, you’d better have a listen to your answering machine.”

  Cal’s head jerked up. “Is it Laurie?”

  “Here.” Mildred pulled a folded paper from her coat pocket. “It came in after Danson searched your place or he would have heard it too. I wrote exactly what he said. But the voice … that you have to hear for yourself.”

  Cal opened the paper to Mildred’s exact handwriting. Fireclown, are you listening? If you want to see her alive, bring the snow. Gray barn, Route DD. No cops.

  He read it again. Bring the snow … Snow. It hit him hard.

  “You sniffin’ snow, bro?”

  “I already told Rita no. There’s enough comfort in legal poison.”

  His heart pounded his chest. They thought he had cocaine? Was Laurie mixed up in that? It made no sense. Or did it? He pictured her torn-up house, furniture slashed.

  Pieces came together that he didn’t want to fit. “The children shouldn’t pay for my mistakes.” Could a drug-crazed Laurie have shot her husband and run? But he’d seen no addiction in her. He would have; he knew how it looked. Or had he intentionally missed it, imagined her trouble came from outside when in fact …

  He ran a hand over his face, noticed Mildred’s keen stare. She’d brought him the message, but did she have any idea its import? He swallowed his tension. He couldn’t let on, not with something so dangerous. It was a minor miracle she’d taken his side over Danson so far.

  “When did this come?”

  “Right before I left.” Mildred shifted the bag. “I went up to see what kind of mess Danson and Baker had made.”

  Cal flashed on Laur ie’s place. Whatever Danson had done wouldn’t compare to that. “And?”

  “It wasn’t bad. Not much worse than you keep it at the best of times.”

  Cal cocked his jaw.

  “While I was up there the call came.”

  If you want to see her alive … A shudder crawled Cal’s spine. What sort of scum had Laurie? Had they killed Brian? His gorge rose, and for some reason he thought also of the vagrant, Flip Casey. Had they run him down too? Why?

  He sure knew his names and faces and stats. Had Flip recognized Brian? And they’d taken the old man out, made it look like an accident. But they hadn’t made Brian’s death an accident. They’d made it murder, and him the prime suspect.

  Were they framing him? For Brian’s murder … and Laurie’s? No! He couldn’t allow himself to think of her dead. He had to picture her whole and unharmed. A trickle of sweat started down his temple. He had to find her.

  He straightened. “What do I do with the kids?”

  “What do I look like?” Mildred fixed him with her peahen stare. “I am neither so old nor so feeble that I can’t manage two youngsters. I trust there’s wood cut?”
/>
  “Plenty.”

  “And you’ve left me water.”

  “Enough.”

  “Then be on your way.” She jutted her chin at him.

  Cal hesitated. What would Luke and Maddie think if he deserted them? They knew Cissy, and she was a natural surrogate grandma. Would Maddie snuggle up with Mildred in the dark? The thought was difficult. But then, if there was trouble, Cissy would wring her hands, whereas Mildred … He could be back by nightfall. With their mother. He nodded. “Thanks, Mildred.”

  “By the way. I’ve an old suitcase in the same closet I found your hat. You could use that.”

  He gave her a quizzical glance.

  “Cornstarch and Baggies.”

  “What are you …” With a rush he caught on. Mildred did know! Sharp old bird, but … Her remark sank in. Cornstarch and Baggies? “You can’t be serious. I’d have thirty seconds before some thug stuck in a finger and tasted gravy mix.”

  Mildred gave him the look. “You have a better plan to get near Laurie?”

  “Any plan would be better than some hokey …” Cal’s brain caught up to his mouth. He looked around in the morning light. What she suggested was crazy. But what were his options? If Laurie had cocaine, he didn’t know where. So how could he bring it? But whoever had Laurie thought he could. Walking in empty-handed would buy him a bullet off the top. At least with a suitcase filled with cornstarch he’d get close.

  Ridiculous as it seemed, it was the best chance they had as far as he could tell. It was either that or walk into Danson’s office and explain, which would land him in a cell—and probably a straight jacket. He’d been there once. He wasn’t about to do it again. He looked back at Mildred still waiting in the doorway. She was right. And she knew it.

  “Have Cissy fetch what you need from the store.” She started toward the door.

  “Mildred, you’re incredible.” He leaned and planted a kiss on her crepe-paper cheek.

  “Good heavens. Get off with you. Time’s wasting.”

  But he saw the flush under her sallow skin, and her mouth worked at the corners. He took the stairs in one leap and pulled open the massive door to Ray’s car. The keys were in the ignition. “By the way, what does Ray know?”

  “That you’re in some sort of trouble. Danson doesn’t think him worth questioning.”

  “Good. Of the two, I’d choose Ray for smarts.” As he slipped into the car, he thought he saw Mildred smile, not something he could swear to, but enough of a smile it warmed him.

  The warmth faded into a chill of concern for Laurie as he drove. “If you want to see her alive …” She was alive. She had to be. He entered the highway and sped toward town. Driving Ray’s Chevy into Mildred’s driveway, he kept his eyes peeled for vehicles.

  Danson didn’t seem to have the place guarded. After all, he had limited resources and probably doubted Cal would return after making his getaway. Cal pulled around the back. Ray was lingering by the outside stairs. Cal waved as he climbed out of the Chevy and hurried toward him.

  Ray followed him up the stairs. “You in trouble, Cal?”

  “Nothing I won’t get out of.” May as well stay positive. Cal unlocked the door to his place and went in.

  “Did you do it?” Ray stepped inside just behind him.

  Cal turned. “Do what?”

  “Shoot Laurie’s husband?”

  Well, Ray knew more than Mildred thought. “What do you think, Ray?”

  Ray tucked his hands into the sides of his overalls. “I don’t think you did. I don’t think you’d do that.”

  Cal smiled. “No, I didn’t. But convincing Danson of that is another thing.” He walked over and pressed the button to hear his messages. The first was Rita asking for a call, a little too casually. Danson must have gotten to her as well. The second message started, and Cal’s breath arrested.

  Tension pulled the tendons in his neck as he heard again the cries over the phone and the voice … “child killer.” Thanksgiving night at the fire station. It was the same hoarse, broken voice, like someone with a tracheotomy put back together badly. “Fireclown, are you listening? If you want to see her alive, bring the snow.” Then the location. “No cops.”

  Fireclown. Cal gripped the table, aware of Ray’s puzzled attention. He waited, anticipating the shakes, but the shock didn’t come. No orange, no smoke, no screams.

  “You okay, Cal?”

  Cal nodded. He had to be. Route DD. He couldn’t picture anything out that far. It was pure rural. That explained the gray barn. Just the sort of place to hole up. He started for the bedroom, but Ray was in the way. “I’ve gotta get through, Ray.”

  Ray moved over. “I want to go with you.”

  “No, you don’t.” Cal walked into the bedroom and to the closet. He pulled open the door and searched the shelf, then remembered he’d taken the rifle to the cabin. He sagged against the jamb, dropped his chin, and swore.

  Well, maybe it was better. He had no doubts whatever that Mildred would use it if necessary. He’d seen her wave her shotgun his way often enough. Shotgun.

  Cal turned. “Ray, you know where Mildred keeps her shotgun?”

  “Under her bed.”

  Of course. Cal started down the inside stairs. He had never set foot, nor hoped to, in Mildred’s bedchamber. But there was nothing to do but suck it up and go in. It was exactly as he imagined. Prim, immaculate, and smelling faintly of old roses. He looked at the militant bed covered with a white nubby spread. The pattern was perfectly centered.

  Cal tried not to muss it as he lifted the edge to peer under the bed. A few dust moats huddled against the wall where even Cissy couldn’t ferret them out with the vacuum. The shotgun lay front and center, right where an old woman could get at it. Cal dragged it free and straightened the spread, then stood.

  Ray was right beside him, face earnest. “I want to go with you.”

  “You don’t know what’s involved, Ray. Besides I can’t implicate you. That’s aiding and abetting.” He didn’t expect Ray to understand.

  “What about Aunt Millie?” Ray stood in his path. “She’s aiding and a—betting.”

  “Aunt Millie’s why you’re not coming. If anything happened to you, she’d have my head more surely than Danson ever dreamed of.”

  Ray crossed his hammy arms. “You can’t go alone.”

  “Yes, I can.”

  “What did you learn in fireman school? Never go in alone. Always take a buddy.”

  Cal could hear himself saying those same words to Ray. He hadn’t known how much stuck. He sighed. “Ray, I would … I really would, but it’s too dangerous. You don’t know what we’re dealing with.”

  “Do you?”

  Cal checked the load on the shotgun. “Not exactly. But enough to know—”

  “You be the brains; I’ll be the brawn. Partners.” Ray held out his hand.

  Cal looked up at him. “Ray, you could get killed.”

  Ray nodded, still keeping his hand aloft.

  “I can’t be responsible for that.”

  “I’m responsible for myself.” Ray hooked his thumbs into the overall straps, looking like an overgrown Huck Finn wanting adventure.

  Cal grinned. He made a very poor Tom Sawyer himself, but if Ray was set on it … “You sure?”

  “Sure.” The nod was definite.

  Cal expelled his breath. He could always have Ray hold back if it came to it. “Okay, but I drive.”

  Ray’s grin was as broad as his face. He shoved his hand out again, and this time Cal shook it. They went together to the kitchen.

  Cissy’s face was flushed and flustered. She wrung her hands and looked at the shotgun in Cal’s grip. “What could you need all that cornstarch for? Just a little bit will do for any recipe.”

  Mildred must have posed the request already. “This isn’t for gravy, Cissy. It’s just for show, and I hope to heaven they don’t taste it.”

  She shook her head. “I might have to go to three different stores for t
hat much.”

  Cal pulled out his wallet and handed her two twenties. “Go wherever you need to.” He helped the coat over her shoulders and eased her toward the door. “It’s all right, Cissy, really.”

  While she was gone, he and Ray rummaged the closet for Mildred’s suitcase. Cal clasped it by the handle and pulled it out. It looked like a small bomb shelter, and weighed about as much. He set it on the table where Mildred’s cards still waited to be written, and opened it up. It would do. It would have to. It was ludicrous to think he could pull this off, but it was the best chance he had to get near Laurie.

  Laurie watched Dieter standing like a specter in the dim light, her handgun in his belt during his turn to watch. She wished now she’d left the gun in Mother’s drawer. As thugs went, they weren’t highly ar med. Not that it mattered. Either weapon was deadly, though she hoped for a bullet over the slow damage of a knife.

  Her hands and feet had lost most of their feeling; her eyes were grainy with lack of sleep, her throat, tight and dry. Which man would do the killing? Dieter’s glares were more chilling, but less threatening than Luìs’s. Dieter’s pale eyes turned to her now. “You better hope your boyfriend, your fireclown, gets the message.”

  She didn’t answer. She hoped anything but. Cal couldn’t get the message, not if he’d left with the children. Not “if.” She was no longer questioning, only believing that Maddie and Luke were safely away.

  She dropped her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. Sheer exhaustion would make her sleep soon. What did it matter anyway? Brian was dead. She would be soon. Her own stupidity the cause of it all. That and Brian’s. A flicker of sadness. Had it finally been dangerous enough for him? What had he proved? Poor Brian. Always trying. Like her.

  She heard a car engine and tires on the dirt outside. The barn wall shook as the door pushed open, flooding the recesses with daylight. Laurie looked up as Luìs walked in, dark and silent. Dieter raised his brows, but Luìs shook his head. “Only the fat one and the retard.”

  It was the first time she’d heard him speak. His voice was soft and accented. But his words brought hope. He must mean Ray and Cissy were home. But no Cal. She silently sighed her relief.