Lottery

by Kimberly Shursen

  He let go of her face, letting her head drop to the mattress. “Good.” He smiled. “Very, very good.” His glare went to the bathroom door. “What?”

  Ling shook her head. “I didn’t say any—”

  “Quiet.” Caleb put up a hand to silence Ling. “I need to hear what he’s saying.”

  He’s? What was he talking about? “Who Caleb? What who’s saying?”

  “Jack Weber, that’s who,” he said agitated.

  Jack Weber? The one who’d died on his yacht? Oh God, this couldn’t be happening.

  “No, I’m not going to kill her,” Caleb said, shaking his head. “Not yet, anyway.”

  Ling’s heart beat through her temples … her throat. “Is Jack Weber here?” she asked cautiously.

  “Of course. He’s my best friend, why wouldn’t he be here?” Caleb smiled, staring at the wall. “We weren’t that good of friends when he was alive. But that’s all past us now, right, buddy?” He stopped for a few seconds, his face turning an angry red. “Stop,” he yelled and shot up from the bed, covering his ears with his hands as he paced the room. “Don’t talk about her that way.”

  Ling stiffened.

  Caleb stopped pacing, uncovered his ears, and looked down at Ling. “He doesn’t like you.”

  “Why?” Ling asked, not knowing what else to say.

  “Says you’re a lying bitch.” Caleb shook his head. “But you’re not. You’re not a lying bitch.” He started to cry and sat down next to her. “You’re my beautiful, sweet wife who will never, ever leave me.” Tears welled in his eyes. “Right?”

  “Yes,” she managed, trying to find her voice.

  “Yes?” Caleb shouted so loud it made her flinch.

  “Yes,” she said louder. “I’m never going to leave you, Caleb … ever.”

  His laugh was manic. “Through richer and richer.”

  “Is that what you think?” Ling had to somehow convince Caleb to trust her. “That I married you for your money?”

  “Didn’t you?” He glared at her hatefully.

  “We met before you won the lottery.”

  He sat up straight. “Did we? I can’t remember.”

  “At the Fairmont. The Tonga Bar. You opened the door and I ran into you.” She forced a smile, trying to think of what else to say.

  Caleb’s chin trembled and she noticed the twitch above his left eye. “Did you fuck him?” he whispered.

  She stopped breathing. “What are you talking about?” She paused, trying to think. “You mean Jack Weber?”

  He nodded and bowed his head.

  His mind was gone. Talking to a ghost … accusing Ling of sleeping with Jack Weber … how would Ling ever be able to reason with him? “I didn’t even know Jack Weber.”

  Caleb pointed at the wall. “You lied, Weber. You said my wife slept with you. I knew she’d never betray me.” He was quiet for a moment. “Oh, quit the bullshit, Weber, you keep saying we’re the same person. Fucking nonsense.”

  “Is there any way that you and I could talk alone?” Ling stared up at Caleb. “Can you make Weber come and go whenever you want?”

  “Sometimes.” He grinned. “I know that sounds crazy.”

  Sounds crazy? “If I promise I won’t try to get away, will you untie me?” She glanced down at her wrist. “The ropes … they hurt.”

  His eyebrows knitted together. “Oh, God.” He knelt down beside the bed. “I don’t want to hurt you.” He wiped his eyes with his hand. “Ever.” He stood and walked out the door.

  What was he doing? Asking dead Weber if he should untie her? Kill her?

  When Caleb strode back into the bedroom carrying a knife, Ling stiffened, praying he wasn’t going to slit her throat.

  Caleb knelt down next to the bed and carefully pushed the knife underneath the rope on her left wrist. “We need to get you out of these.” He began to move the knife back and forth slowly.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “It was Weber, you know.” Caleb continued to saw gently through the rope.

  She was quiet, her focus on the knife.

  “He tied these.”

  She eyed him, trying not to show any expression. “I thought so. I know you would never do something like this to me.” When her wrist was free, she felt the blood rush back into her hand.

  “He’s the one. Weber’s the one who makes me do bad things,” Caleb said tearfully and moved to the other side of the bed.

  “And you listen to him?”

  “I don’t have a choice,” Caleb said angrily, positioning the knife between her skin and the rope. “You don’t understand.”

  If she said the wrong thing, he might slit her wrist. Her other wrist unbound, Ling massaged her tingling hands. “Thank you, Caleb.”

  Caleb shrugged a shoulder. “I just don’t know why Weber would want me kill you, but he’s been right about everything else.”

  Terrified, she used her elbows to prop herself up and watched him saw through the ropes on her ankles. “Everything else?”

  “Like you moving out,” he said, his tone agitated.

  “Moving out? Why would I move out?” Did Caleb know she’d signed a lease?

  When her feet were free, Caleb went to the top of the bed. The knife still in his hand, he leaned over her and asked, “You mean you weren’t going to leave?”

  If she wasn’t so afraid, she might feel sorry for him. He was child-like with his wide eyes, asking his mommy to love him. “I have no idea where Weber got that idea.”

  “But I saw you,” Caleb countered.

  He had followed her? She had to think quickly. “Oh, you mean when Jenee and I went into the apartment building?”

  Caleb nodded, waiting for an answer.

  “Jenee has a friend moving to San Francisco.” Ling laid a hand on his shoulder. “She asked Jenee to look for an apartment for her while she was here.”

  “Really?” Caleb blew out a breath. “Whew.” He flicked his hand across his forehead. “Sorry.”

  Was he sorry enough to take her home? Or was he sorry and planned to never take her back?

  “Come on, sleepy head,” Caleb said. “Get dressed so you can enjoy the beautiful view.” He walked to the closet and opened it.

  Slowly, she stood. On unsteady legs, she stumbled to the closet. She took hold of the sleeve of a rain jacket. “Did you buy all these clothes for me?”

  “Sure.” He walked along the wall, opening each drawer. “Underwear,” he said and opened another drawer. “Jeans and shorts.” He smiled and opened the drawer underneath it. “Swim suits.”

  “That’s very thoughtful.” Ling now knew that his intentions were to never take her home. Why hadn’t she seen how sick he was?

  “You get dressed and I’ll see you on deck, matey, okay?” Caleb marched to the door, and walked out. Ling heard his footsteps go up to the upper deck.

  Frantically she searched the room for a phone, turning over cushions, tossing the spread to the floor. Nothing. Even if she called someone, she had no idea where they were, or where the boat was headed. The part that terrified her the most was that she didn’t know when Caleb would turn on her again.

  Had Jenee called for help? Even if she had, how would anyone find them? Ling had to find out where they were. But then, how would she relay the information? If Caleb had brought his phone, she needed to find it. Somehow, she had to trick him; convince him to let her use his phone to tell her mother she was okay. But if he really did hear Weber in his head, Ling not only had to convince Caleb, but his alter ego. She’d only read briefly about these types of mental illnesses in her freshman psychology class, but had no idea how to deal with it.

  She took out a pair of shorts from the drawer and then a gray T-shirt. After she dressed, she washed her face in the bathroom, and then used a scrunchie that she’d found in one of the drawers to wrap her hair into a ponytail. She pulled open another draw and found lotion, lip gloss, even blush. Caleb had lost his mind, yet had thought of everything she�
��d need.

  Staring at herself in the mirror, she saw a large purplish-black bump on her forehead. She remembered falling, and knew that she’d had to have been out for days, or at least several hours for a bruise to turn this color. How far away were they from San Francisco? How long had they been on the boat? She had to somehow believe that she’d get home safely.

  The most important thing was that Ling had to be strong … for Ahna … for Sammy.

  enee rolled her stiff neck around to try and ease the tension. Just when she thought there were no more tears left to cry, they’d start again. She glanced at the clock on the stove in Ling’s kitchen. It was almost eleven in the morning.

  Detective Alvaraz looked across the kitchen table at Jenee. “I have a hunch Caleb’s on his way to Mexico,” the female detective said who’d been sent to the house to stay with Jenee and Mei.

  “Why?” Jenee asked.

  “It would take a while to bring him up on charges, do the paper work, and then extradite him back to the US. By the time that was done, O’Toole will have taken his wife to another country that the US doesn’t have an extradition treaty with.”

  The lack of sleep, and not being able to find Caleb and Ling for over twelve hours, had left Jenee numb. She stared blankly at the handsome woman detective, whom Jenee guessed to be in her mid-thirties.

  The house in Pacific Heights buzzed with police. In both uniforms and plain clothes, the SFPD police and detectives looked for evidence that might give them a clue as to where Caleb had taken or was taking Ling. Whispers echoed through the mansion as everyone compared notes.

  “So, why would a man who has all of this kidnap his wife?” Alvaraz asked Jenee.

  “Money can’t buy sanity.” Jenee swiped underneath her nose with a tissue. “He thought he was losing her … and …”

  “And?” Alvaraz paused. “Is there something more?”

  “Ma’am,” Jenee’s thoughts were interrupted by the deep voice. She looked up, and saw a middle-aged balding man in plain clothes. “Your phone is tapped now. If Mr. O’Toole has a newer phone, and we assume he does, the GPS will locate him if you keep him on long enough. Don’t answer until the third ring and try to keep him on as long as possible.”

  “How long?” Jenee asked.

  “It takes three minutes to trace a call, but that’s when a fugitive is on land. Since O’Toole is presumed to be on the water, try to keep him on longer so we can locate them through the satellite.”

  Jenee didn’t understand any of what she’d just been told except that if Caleb called, she needed to try to keep him on the phone as long as she could. She stood, walked to counter, and snatched a tissue out of the box.

  “Mrs. Rager?”Alvaraz asked. “Is there something else we need to know?”

  Jenee didn’t know if she should divulge what she’d found on the net. Even though McKenzie Price had been strangled, and had been on the boat the night the night Jack Weber died, it could have been a coincidence.

  “Jenee?”

  “Caleb talks to himself,” Jenee said as she walked back to the chair and sat down.

  “Anything else?” Alvaraz’s dark eyes pierced through Jenee.

  “I didn’t tell Ling my suspicions about Caleb … I was going to … but hadn’t found the right time to do it before Caleb took her.” Jenee swiped the tissue underneath her eyes again, feeling guilty that she hadn’t told Ling what she’d found on the net.

  Alvaraz folded her hands together, set them on the table and leaned forward, waiting for Jenee to continue.

  “I don’t have evidence or anything, so—”

  “Just tell me what you suspect, so we know what we’re dealing with here,” Alvarez said.

  Jenee met Alvaraz’s gaze. “I … think Caleb has murdered people,” Jenee stammered.

  The lieutenant sat up straight. “Murdered?”

  “I can’t prove it, but there are a couple of deaths that happened after his friend Jack Weber died and around the time Caleb claimed the lottery ticket.”

  “And O’Toole knew these people?”

  “Come on.” Jenee pushed back her chair and stood. “I can show you what I found on the net. I printed the pages out and brought them with me, but I think Caleb stole them from my suitcase before I could show them Ling.”

  In Ling’s office, Jenee turned on the computer and went through all the articles about Weber, McKenzie, and Ron Price that she’d found online. “I also think Caleb had something to do with Ling’s father’s drowning,” Jenee said, eyeing Alvaraz who sat next to her at Ling’s desk.

  Alvaraz blew out a breath. “Wow.” She leaned back. “There’s a lot going on here.”

  “According to Ling,” Jenee went on, “Caleb has changed since they got married. To the point where she doesn’t even know who he is anymore.”

  Alvaraz stood. “I need to get hold of the place where the winning lottery ticket was purchased. See if they have a video of Caleb buying the ticket.” She walked to the door of Ling’s office and turned back around. “The only thing I can think of is that perhaps it was Jack Weber’s ticket and Caleb stole it the night Weber died. Maybe McKenzie Price saw what happened and then tried to blackmail O’Toole.” She scratched her head.

  The shrill tone of Jenee’s cell phone made the hair on Jenee’s arms stand up. She jumped up from the chair, her eyes meeting Alvaraz’s. “Oh, God, what if it’s Caleb?

  “Hurry. But take in a deep breath before you answer,” Alvaraz coached.

  Jenee raced through the foyer and the kitchen, and snatched up her cell, her eyes quickly glancing at the caller ID. “It’s my husband.”

  “Damn it, tell him not to call you on your phone again, and make it quick,” Alvaraz ordered.

  “Justin?” Jenee answered.

  “What’s going on?” Justin asked. “I’ve been worried sick … you called hours ago and said you’d call back, and then the police show up, and I don’t have a fucking clue what’s going on, and then—”

  “Justin, listen.” Jenee laid a hand over the small of her back.“You can’t call me on this phone.”

  “What in the hell is—”

  “Just listen.” Her nerves were raw. “The police have my phone tapped in case Caleb calls. He’s kidnapped Ling.”

  “I want you on the first damn plane out of there. Do you understand?” Justin said sternly.

  “I’m safe. I promise,” Jenee said. “Please don’t get angry. I’ll call you from a different phone as soon as I can.”

  “I don’t like this. I want my wife home.”

  “I know,” Jenee comforted. “I want to come home, too, but not until I know Ling is okay. I’ll call you later, I promise.”

  Just as Jenee closed her phone, Alvaraz’s cell rang.

  “Alvaraz,” the detective stated when she answered. Jenee watched for any sign of emotion on Alvaraz’s face.

  “Okay,” Alvaraz said bluntly. “Just keep me informed.”

  “Anything?” Jenee asked and slouched back down in the chair across from her.

  Alvaraz shook her head. “Not yet, Coast Guard is still looking. Guy who works at the marina said he noticed O’Toole has been bringing packages to his yacht for days now.”

  “Packages?”

  “Said he thought he was carrying bags from a department store and the market.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Means he’s been planning this for some time.” Alvaraz sat down at the table. “Stocked up on food, clothing; everything he’d need for a long trip.”

  Jenee felt a glimmer of hope. “That means he’s going to keep Ling alive then, right?”

  “Not necessarily.” Alvaraz raised a dark eyebrow, which was the first expression Jenee had seen. “Caleb needs food and clothing, too. If what you say about him is true, you never know when he’ll go off the deep end.”

  Each long second that passed without hearing from Caleb made Jenee start to lose hope they’d find Ling. She stood and paced to the large pictur
e window in the sitting area of the kitchen. Should she have called Caleb’s bluff? Hung up on him when he’d ordered her to keep talking and called the police? Jumped on his back and at least tried to get the gun away from him?

  She remembered the demented look in his eyes and recalled the times she’d caught him talking to himself. Jenee hadn’t had a choice. He would have killed her and Ling both, and maybe even Ahna and Sammy if she’d tried to fight him.

  When Jenee’s phone rang, she gasped. Hurrying to the counter, she looked down. “Oh, God … it’s him.”

  “Just stay calm.” Alvaraz stood and sprinted to the doorway that went into the great room. “Quiet,” she shushed everyone in the house. “This is it.”

  On the third ring, Jenee opened her phone and brought it to her ear. “Hello?” she asked as a question.

  “Jenee,” Ling whispered, her voice strained.

  “Ling?” Jenee glanced at Alvaraz, who quickly snatched the cell phone out of Jenee’s hand.

  “Ling, this is detective Alvaraz, San Francisco Police Department. Are you safe?”

  “No,” Ling whispered.

  “Where are you?”

  “I don’t know.” Ling answered. “I need help.”

  “Are you by the cockpit?”

  “Yes. But, I have to hurry, I don’t have—”

  “Look at the GPS on the dashboard. Tell me your coordinates.”

  “Oh, God … he’s coming.”

  “Ling!” Alvaraz shouted, but Ling was already gone. The detective grabbed her phone off the counter and pushed a button. “Anything?” the detective asked, as she paced. “Okay,” Alvaraz said a few second later and put the phone down.

  Jenee held her breath. “Did they get a trace?”

  Alvaraz shook her head.

  Jenee felt like she was going to faint. “What else can we do?”

  “Hope that Ling calls again or that the Coast Guard finds them.”

  As the hours went by in slow motion, Jenee found herself staring at her phone, willing it to ring, praying Ling would call again. “I need to call my husband,” Jenee told the detective, who sat at the table quietly filling out paperwork.

  “Wait.” Alvaraz stood. “I’ll get another cell phone for you to use.” Her long legs glided across the cherrywood floor. “Anyone have a personal cell we can use?”