Family Reunion

by Nicholas Sarazen

  Satterfield glanced at Donelli. "Mrs. Helmsley, did you see what color the van was?"

  "No, it was dark and it was going too fast. But you could certainly hear it. It reminded me of when Lyle used to open up the cutouts on that old Cord Phaeton he had."

  "Which way did it turn?"

  "Left."

  Donelli cleared his throat. "Frank," he said in a low voice, "maybe we ought to have a look inside."

  Satterfield nodded and turned to Mrs. Helmsley. "Do you have a key, ma'am?"

  "Why yes, I always carry my keys. But do you think something's wrong? I wouldn't want to barge into Stephanie's apartment unless it's important."

  "It could be very important," Satterfield said.

  Jessie found the key and opened the door. She switched on the lights and led the detectives through the apartment. Other than the rumpled comforter on Stephanie's bed, nothing looked out of place.

  "What now, Frank?" Donelli asked.

  "I don't know. Mrs. Helmsley, do you mind if we use Stephanie's phone?"

  "No, help yourself."

  Satterfield called the Tribune, but no one had any idea where Stephanie might be. He then checked in to see if anything else had turned up on the killing of the psychologist, but there was no new information. When he hung up the phone Jessie was standing beside him.

  "I heard you say murder...someone's been murdered?" she asked.

  "Yeah," Donelli answered before Satterfield could speak, "and we thought Stephanie would like a shot at the story. But it sounds from the way she went buzzin' outa here that she must have already heard about it." Donelli looked at Satterfield. "Don't you think so, Frankie?"

  "Uh, yeah, Tony, you're probably right." Satterfield faked a reassuring smile for the old woman's benefit. "But just in case, Mrs. Helmsley, would you mind if Tony stayed here until Stephanie gets back?"

  "I wouldn't mind at all. I'll make some tea and keep him company."

  "Great. Tony, come with me down to the car for a minute."

  Donelli followed Satterfield out the door and down the steps. At the bottom they looked up at the porch to be sure Mrs. Helmsley was still inside.

  "Look, Tony, I want you to stay here. Don't go anywhere and don't let Jessie leave."

  "Where are you off to?"

  "I'm following a hunch." Satterfield checked his watch. "If I'm not back or if I haven't called you in two hours, send a posse."

  "Where?"

  "Xeno's cabin." Satterfield got out a pen and scrawled directions on the back of a credit card slip. He handed it to Donelli. "I've only been there once, but that's the general vicinity. They'll have to find it from there."

  "Frankie, there's still a good chance that nothing's wrong and she'll tool up the driveway any minute."

  "I don't think so, Tony."

  When Stephanie awoke it took a moment for her faculties to return. Again she had no idea how long she had been out.

  Her left arm and shoulder were numb, but it felt like someone was leaning heavily on her. As she moved her shoulder up and down, long hair brushed against her neck. Could it be another woman? Even if the other woman was in the same predicament, it was comforting to Stephanie to know she wasn't alone.

  She spent the next several minutes trying to communicate with the person beside her. She grunted at her and nudged her, but there was no response. Once it seemed the woman moved, but it could have been just another bump in the road.

  The van slowed and made a sharp left turn, causing the woman to slump across Stephanie's lap. Seconds later they jolted to a stop. The engine was still running, but the smell of exhaust fumes was now mixed with the aroma of hamburgers and French fries. The van moved forward a few feet and stopped again. She heard a girl's garbled voice coming over a speaker. There are other people nearby, people who can help me! Frantically Stephanie began rubbing her face against the wall of the van in an attempt to slide off the blindfold and peel the tape from her mouth. The throbbing in her head became more intense, but she managed to raise the bottom edge of the cloth across her eyes. Lights from the parking lot outside brightened the van's interior. She looked down at the woman on her lap.

  Stephanie pitched violently to her right and began kicking at the back doors of the van. She heard loud voices and the van started rocking. Someone jerked her upright and slammed her back into a sitting position. Hands roughly checked her bindings and secured her blindfold. Once again she was in darkness, but the sight of Cindy Pennington's bloody blouse and glazed stare stayed with her. The van lurched forward.

  Tears welled behind Stephanie's blindfold and stung her eyes. For the first time in her life she felt completely helpless. What strange set of circumstances had thrown her and Cindy together again? Had someone found out about the reunion? Could it be some reactionary law-and-order nuts trying to stamp out Mother Earth's Family once and for all? Inside the blindfold her eyelids closed. Part of her wanted to sleep, but now her head pounded in a new place.

  After what seemed about twenty minutes the van slowed and turned to the right. She was bounced and tilted about as they climbed a winding grade. The van stopped and the engine was cut off. I guess this is it. She heard the front doors open and close, followed by the sound of another vehicle pulling to a stop beside the van. The hushed voices were too low for her to make out any words.

  The rear doors opened and she took in the scent of pine. Strong hands went under her arms and lifted her out and onto the ground. Her numb feet tingled under the sudden weight of her body. A hand pushed against her back. The bindings around her ankles allowed little movement of her feet and she started to fall. Someone grabbed her around her waist, someone tall and muscular. Other footsteps followed them as he carried her forward.

  A doorknob rattled as it was turned. She was brought into some type of building. Their footsteps made a hollow sound on the wooden floor. The place smelled musty, but there was something else about the odor, something familiar. Someone struck a match. She couldn't tell how many other people were with her, but she knew there were several. No one said a word, but she felt faint rushes of air past her face as though her captors were gesturing to each other. She was pushed to a sitting position on the floor. Another match was struck. After a few moments, she heard them walk outside and close the door.

  Stephanie struggled to free her hands, but the bindings were too tight. She stopped to rest, her chest rising and falling. When she leaned back against the wall she felt the roughness of wooden planks. Her breath caught in her throat. The winding path, the smell of pine, the rattle of the doorknob, the mustiness, the match, the planks--it now all came together. Xeno's cabin!

  Outside, the van's engine started. It idled for what seemed to be several minutes. Over the rumbling Stephanie barely heard the door to the cabin swing open and the sound of someone coming in. Something soft bumped against her foot, followed seconds later by a scraping noise. Hands--different hands--were helping her to her feet. She was guided forward, and the hands steadied her as she inched along. After a few steps she was turned to where she again found her back pressed against a wall. She heard the scraping sound again and sensed something closing around her as the grumbling of the muffler became more faint. She leaned forward, and then to each side. Her head bumped into some sort of barrier in every direction. The cabin door closed. Seconds later she heard the van pulling away.

  Satterfield had driven by the narrow dirt road three times before he spotted the small dark opening in the trees. He went on another quarter mile until he found a place where he could pull far enough off the roadway to keep his car from being seen. He checked to make sure his revolver was fully loaded and grabbed a handful of extra shells from the box in the glove compartment. He started to open the door, then remembered the flashlight under the seat.

  In a few minutes he was walking up the path to Xeno's cabin. The trees were so dense overhead they blocked out most of the moonlight. With each bend in the road the night became more still, the only sounds coming from an occa
sional car on the highway that now seemed far away.

  Satterfield came to a clearing and stopped when he saw Stephanie's car parked near the small cabin. He stepped behind a tree and drew his gun. He might have only one chance to get Stephanie out safely. If he rushed the cabin she might get hurt.

  Satterfield got down on his hands and knees and crawled toward her car. He listened for any noises coming from inside or around the cabin. He could hear nothing. When he reached the car he raised up and looked in through the passenger window, afraid of what he might find. The car was empty. There was enough light for him to see that the keys weren't in the ignition.

  With his gun in his right hand and the flashlight in his left, he crawled to the front of the cabin. He turned on his side and raised his gun to the door. Several minutes passed without a sound coming from inside. Even if they were sleeping they would have made some sort of noise in that length of time. He released his grip on the flashlight and moved his left hand until he found a pine cone. He tossed it into the weeds and listened for any response from inside the cabin. He then took another one and threw it at Stephanie's car. With a loud clunk it bounced off the hood, but still there was no sound from inside.

  Satterfield knew he had to force the action. He rose to his feet and put his hand on the doorknob. When the latch was clear he pushed the door open just enough to let him gently return the doorknob to its normal position. When this was finished he lay on the ground again, on his right side with his body stretched along the front of the cabin. Only his head and arms would be in the doorway. He took a deep, silent breath and with the barrel of his gun nudged the door. His finger was now putting pressure on the trigger. The door swung until it banged against the wall. The moon let in a little light, but not enough to see the dark corners of the cabin. He switched on the flashlight. When he moved the beam from the walls to the floor he saw it--first the shoes, then the legs. He swallowed hard. As he slowly got to his feet the light moved higher. He winced when he saw the bloody midsection. He had to force himself to inch the light toward the face. He could now see the woman's chin...her mouth...her nose...her eyes. Thank God. It wasn't Stephanie.

  He slipped in and closed the door behind him, then knelt down and checked the woman's neck for a pulse. The skin was clammy and cool.

  He played the light over the rest of the cabin. When he saw the tall cabinet in the corner he walked over and twisted the padlock several times. When he was sure it was still clear outside, he crept out of the cabin to wait.

  He soon heard the low drone in the distance and immediately knew it was the van with the faulty muffler. From the cover of the weeds, he watched it pull into the clearing and park next to Stephanie's Toyota. A man got out from the passenger's side and went into the cabin. Seconds later he came out.

  "Stephanie's gone!"

  Satterfield now knew that at least Stephanie wasn't in the van or the cabin, but where was she? With Xeno?

  The man who had gone into the cabin trotted over to the driver's side of the van, out of Satterfield's view. From the passenger's side a beam of light swept the area where Satterfield lay. He pressed his face against the ground. He could hear voices arguing, doors opening and slamming. When he looked up again he saw a large man and a smaller man dragging someone from the back of the van. Satterfield could see it was a man, and by the way he was being dragged it was obvious his hands and feet were bound. They took him to Stephanie's car and pushed him in on the driver's side.

  The two men walked back to the van, again out of view on the driver's side. Satterfield heard the smaller man yelling in a crazed voice.

  "I don't know what the hell we're supposed to do now. Goddammit, if she gets away it's all over for all of us."

  Satterfield heard the sound of something--maybe a fist--striking the side of the van.

  "She couldn't have gotten far. We'll go look for her. Hunter, you wait here."

  Satterfield heard a door slam again. The van backed out, turned around, and rumbled down the dirt road. Satterfield watched the one who stayed behind go inside the cabin. The odds were now a little more in his favor.

  Satterfield rose from the weeds and was halfway to the cabin when he froze and held his breath. Something wasn't right. His grip on his revolver grew tighter.

  As he moved closer he saw that the cabin door was ajar. Suddenly the door swung open. Satterfield saw a blur and instinctively started to drop to the ground. He felt a sharp impact, then a searing pain in his upper left chest. Fire flashed from the muzzle of his .38 Special.

  Satterfield glanced down at a protruding knife handle and gritted his teeth. He was now on his knees, and it was a struggle for him to stay upright. He looked up to see a large form emerge from the doorway.

  The man held both hands over his stomach. Blood ran from between his fingers. He raised his hands and stared at the red smears on his palms. He looked at Satterfield, then back at the bloody palms. The small slits that were his eyes grew into savage circles. He took three steps forward. Again Satterfield fired, this time striking the big man squarely in the chest. The man staggered when the two slugs pierced his body, but still he kept coming. Satterfield emptied his gun as the man closed the last few feet separating them. As the man fell upon Satterfield the gun dropped to the ground. The weight of the other man drove the knife in up to the hilt. Satterfield let out an angry cry of pain. Two huge hands closed around his throat.

  Satterfield struggled for a gasp of air, but the hands squeezed tighter. Every shot hit him. What kind of monster is he? The tops of the ponderosas began to rotate, then fade. The spinning was making him sick. He had to shut his eyes. No. If I do that, this bastard will surely finish me off. From Satterfield's neck rose two forearms, the veins popping out like many throbbing cords. But there was something else. Something shiny, like a silver coin. The object seemed to call out to Satterfield. Come pluck me from the air. Take me and all your pain will go away. His right hand felt like lead on the ground. Why do they make it so hard to die? I just want the pain to go away, I just want it to be over. He closed his eyes...No! It's not your time! Not yet! Don't give up! Satterfield's eyes were open again as he strained to hear the voice. Slowly his hand made it up to his stomach. You're halfway there. You have to keep going. You have to get the coin. The arms in front of him were now beginning to fade, too. His hand was only inches from the gleaming object, but he felt he could go no further...I guess this isn't such a bad way for a cop to die. I just wish I could have taken him with me. The voice was now pleading with Satterfield. Come on, do it! Now! His fingers moved again, inching up until they were touching the cold metal coin. I've got it! He felt a sense of relief, then of puzzlement. Wait a minute. This is no coin. It's not even flat. What's going on? The shiny object was part of something else, something long. As he wrapped his fingers around it a new wave of pain shot through his shoulder. I thought you said my pain would be over. Whatever it was, it was making his chest hurt. Take me and all your pain will go away. With the strength he had left, he pulled. He let out a scream. Now the pain wasn't as bad.

  "Oh no you don't, you sonofabitch! I'm not going, you are!" All Satterfield could see was that blessed little shiny end of the knife handle streak toward the big form again and again. Gradually the hands around his throat relaxed. Soon the tops of the pines came back into focus. The man heaved a gurgled groan and collapsed on the ground beside him. The shiny object now hovered over the dead man.

  It took Satterfield several minutes to collect himself. His left arm hung limp at his side. With his right hand he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and stuffed it under his shirt. Almost immediately it was soaked with blood.

  He reached over and picked up the revolver, propping it between his knees. With one hand he emptied the cylinder and dropped fresh rounds into the six open chambers. He put his hand on the dead man's hip and pushed himself to his feet. He leaned over and grabbed the handle of the knife, pulling the blade free, then slid it under his belt. With his good arm he dragge
d the body to the rear of the cabin, out of view of anyone approaching from the front.

  He remembered the man in Stephanie's car. Somehow he found the strength to get there. The man was thrashing about when Satterfield opened the car door. He pulled the gag down from around the man's mouth.

  "Who are you?" asked the man in a hoarse voice. "Why are you doing this to me?"

  "Easy, pal. I'm on your side." Satterfield untied the blindfold. "Blancett?"

  "Lieutenant Satterfield! Am I ever glad to see you! What's going on?"

  "I wish I could tell you. Do you know where Stephanie is?" Satterfield's right hand fumbled with the ropes around Hal's wrists.

  "Oh no, don't tell me Steph's mixed up in this!"

  "I'm afraid so." Satterfield helped him out of the car. "Tell me what happened to you."

  Hal rubbed his wrists. "All I can tell you is that I was sitting at home watching the tube, then the next thing I know I'm blindfolded and all tied up. I tried to get free and someone hit me over the head again. I just woke up." Hal blinked his eyes several times. "Oh no, my contacts are gone. They must have fallen out when I got hit. Where are we?"

  "Stephanie ever tell you about Xeno?"

  "Yes."

  "That's his cabin. Look, there's no time to talk now. There are others. They had Stephanie, but I think she might have gotten away. They're looking for her, but they could be on their way back at any time, especially if they heard the shots. Let's check out the cabin. Maybe we can find you a gun or something." Satterfield held out the knife. "Here, take this."

  Hal pointed at the growing bloodstain on Satterfield's shirt. "My God, are you all right?"

  "I'll make it. Come on."

  Hal helped Satterfield to the cabin. He switched on the flashlight as he passed through the doorway. "Hey, somebody's on the...oh, God."

  "Do you know her?"

  Hal trained the light on the dead woman's face. "It's Cindy Pennington. I just saw her at--"